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THE PORTAL OF SAN JOSE MISSION 



TEXAS 
LITERATURE READER 



COMPILED BY 
DAVIS FOUTE EAGLETON, A.M., Litt.D. 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, AUSTIN COLLEGE 




THE SOUTHERN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

DALLAS, TEXAS 

1916 






Copyright, 1916 
By DAVIS FOUTE EAGLETON 



4 



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-*j> 



JUL 28 1916 



X U 



W. F. BRAINARD 

BOOK MANUFACTURER 

NEW YORK 



CI.A433916 



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FOREWORD 

In deciding upon the following selections for a 
literature reader for school grades, due consider- 
ation has been given to variety of subject matter 
as well as to the various forms of style. The 
questions are developed on the principle of induc- 
tion and are intended to be suggestive merely, and 
not exhaustive. The pupils should be encouraged 
to make their own questions. 

No apology is made for the large use of verse. 
A long experience in the class room produces the 
conviction that there would be more appreciation 
in later years of this most enjoyable of all artis- 
tic forms, if pupils were brought into more inti- 
mate contact with it in the earlier days of school. 

The biographical notes should be of great serv- 
ice to the teacher. The personal equation is an 
important factor in school work. Behind the 
writing should always be the writer. Above all 
should be cultivated the spirit of inquiry and orig- 
inal thinking on the part of the child. 

The compiler and publishers desire to return 
thanks to authors, publishers, and friends, who 
have so generously aided in securing the material. 
And it is the hope that the book may be the in- 
spiration of a deeper interest in our home writers 
on the part of both teachers and pupils. 



CONTENTS 

I AGE 

Flag Song of Texas — Mrs. Lee Cohen Ilarby .... 7 

Austin and Houston — George F. Burgess 11 

The Story of Mineral Wells — Anonymous 15 

Peach Blossom Time — Mrs. Belle Hunt Shortridge ... 22 

The Battle of San Jacinto — From A Brief History of Texas 25 

Fiddlin' A'ter Supper — Jake H. Harrison 2!) 

The Lone Quail — Jake H. Harrison 33 

What the Battle of San Jacinto Meant — Mrs. Mary 

V. Jackson 3G 

The Last Bob White — Whitney Montgomery .... 40 

A Lion Hunt in the Rocky Mountains — Leonard Lcmmon 42 

Yokonah — Mrs. Fannie Baker Darden 51 

Eulogy on Flaco, Chief of the Lipans — Sam Houston 50 

Minding the Gap — Mrs. Mollie Moore Davis 58 

Texas — Larry Chittenden 63 

Stephen F. Austin — Mrs. Maude Fuller Young .... 00 

The San Antonio River — Mrs. Belle French Swisher ... 74 

The Story of Warren Lions — James T. DcShields . ... 78 

Gay Spring — Mirabeau Lamar 83 

The Daughter of Mendoza — Mirabeau Lamar .... 80 

A Prairie Sunset — W. B. Deicecs — in Letters from Texas 88 

Sabine Boat Song — Ernest Powell 90 

Our Nameless Nation — Mrs. M. M. Jonvenat .... 92 

The Whistle of the Bob White — Jesse Edward Grinstead 95 

The Bells of Boscastle — Stark Young 101 

A Mother's Song — Stark Young 104 

5 ' 



G CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Council House Fight — Mrs. Sam Maverick . . .105 

Spanish Moss — Friench Simpson Ill 

A Child's Game — Mrs. Karle Wilson Baker 113 

A Pioneer School — T. J. Pilgrim 115 

The Rain Frog — John P. Sjolander 117 

Swinging Song — John P. Sjolander .11:) 

James Stephen Hogg — Miss Katie Daffan 121 

Little Children of the Mill — Mrs. J. Kendrick Collins 130 

Monday— P. W. Horn 132 

Manual Training — P. W. Horn 133 

A Boy's Whistle — Judd Mortimer Lewis 137 

Sing the South! — Judd Mortimer Lewis 142 

The Texas Ranger — Miss Katie Daffan 144 

Crickets' Band Concert — Miss Helen Scott 148 

Little Aprons — Mrs. Mary Odom . 151 

A Song of the Simpler Things — Clarence Ousley . . .153 
The Rain, the Rainbow, and the Sunset — Clarence Ousley 155 

The Spiders — Hilton Ross Greer 15!) 

"Pictures in the Air" — Mrs. Julia Truitt Bishop . .162 

Then and Now — Harry Lee Marriner 1G7 

"Our Dear Old Mammy" — Harry Lee Marriner . . . .170 
Biographical Notes 173 



TEXAS LITERATURE 
READER 

FLAG SONG OF TEXAS 

Oh, prairie breeze, blow sweet and pure, 

And, Southern Sun, shine bright, 
To bless our flag where'er may gleam 

Its single star of light ; 
But should the sky grow dark with wrath, 

The tempest burst and rave, 
It still shall float undauntedly — 

The standard of the brave ! 

Chorus 

Flag of our State, oh, glorious flag ! 

Unsullied in peace and triumphant in war; 
Heroes have fought for you 

Statesmen have wrought for you, — 
Emblazoned in glory, you wear the lone star. 

By deeds of arms our land was won 

And priceless the reward ! 
Brave Milam died and Fannin fell 

Her sacred rights to guard ; 

7 



8 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Our patriot force with mighty will 

Triumphant set her free, 
And Travis, Bowie, Crockett, gave 

Their lives for liberty ! 



And when on San Jacinto 's plain 

The Texans heard the cry, 
"Bemember, men, the Alamo !" 

They swore to win or die ; 
Resistless in their high resolve, 

They forced the foe to yield, 
And freedom crowned the victory gained 

On that illustrious field ! 



Oh! Texas, tell the story o'er, 

With pride recall each name, 
And teach your sons to emulate 

Their virtues and their fame ; 
So shall your grandeur still increase, 

Your glory shine afar — 
For deathless honor guards the flag, 

Where gleams the proud Lone Star ! 

— Mrs. Lee Cohen Hakby. 

QUESTIONS 

1. When did the "sky grow dark with wrath"? 

2. What is a "standard"? 

3. Tell something of Milam. Of Fannin. 



FLAG SONG OF TEXAS 9 

4. Where did Travis, Bowie, and Crockett give their 

lives for liberty ? 

5. "Write the story of "San Jacinto's plain. 

6. Tell the story of the Texas Flag. 



> > 



10 



TEXAS LITERATURE READER 





STEPHEN F. AUSTIN 



SAM HOUSTON 



AUSTIN AND HOUSTON 

These two great men are gone. If they could 
return now to the scene of their heroic action and 
behold the State which they founded and for which 
they fought, what joy would animate them! Now 
they would behold a great State of the Union, in- 
habited by more than 5,000,000 people, cultivating 
more acres of land than any other State of the 
American Union; the greatest agricultural and 
stock-raising State in this Union; a State annually 
bringing into the channels of American commerce 
more gold from Europe than any other State; a 
State whose population is more happily dis- 
tributed than any other territory in the world; a 
State whose internal government, whose low taxa- 
tion, whose educational funds and institutions, 
whose administration of justice, are second to 
none. And, standing in the proud present, think- 
ing of the glorious past, the contemplation of the 
future would stagger even those far-seeing intel- 
lects. For no human vision can foretell what the 
resistless sweep of civilization and progress shall 
accomplish in the coming years in the State of the 
Lone Star, with a territory comprising so much 
fertile soil, of such various adaptability to all 

forms of culture possible on the Western Conti- 

11 



12 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

nent; with a great gulf trade upon which mouths 
to the open sea are calling for the commerce of so 
vast an area to pour it out into the markets of the 
world, and which invite in return so much of im- 
ports to so large a section. 

When the Gulf of Mexico becomes, as it surely 
will, the Mediterranean of the Western Continent, 
and factories mingle with agriculture, a progress 
and a power will be ours far beyond our ken. 
Those of us who live there pray that our patriot- 
ism and that of our posterity may be equal to the 
discharge of all the great tasks that our great fu- 
ture will hold for us. May the spirit of our fath- 
ers fall with tender benediction and inspiring pur- 
pose upon us and our children forever ! 

Texas has not only a glorious but a unique his- 
tory. She comprises the only territory upon the 
surface of the globe which has a history that par- 
allels in patriotic purpose, struggle and achieve- 
ment that of the thirteen colonies of America. 
The same love of liberty, the same reckless devo- 
tion to human rights, throbbed in the bosom of 
these colonists that had been potent among those 
of the thirteen colonies. Revolution came here as 
the result. These colonists met in the open and 
they wrote a declaration of independence, and 
achieved it by a short, desperate, but decisive war. 
They ordained a constitution, they selected a flag 
typical of the republic which they had founded. 
This flag had a blue field, wherein gleamed a lone 



AUSTIN AND HOUSTON 13 

star, which stood for the sovereignty of the Re- 
public for which they had sacrificed so much. 
They had their Gonzales where the first shot was 
fired in resistance to tyranny and lit a fire of free- 
dom that could not be quenched ; their Alamo and 
Goliad. The desperate valor of the one and the 
merciless butchery of the other made the glory 
of their San Jacinto possible, for they gave that 
battle cry, ■* Remember the Alamo and Goliad," 
to Sam Houston's army — the most stirring, 
vengeful, animating war cry that ever fell from 
patriot warriors' lips since the dawn of history. 

As I believe, in the providence of God, the time 
came when the people of the United States and the 
people of the Republic of Texas agreed to unite 
under one flag of the United States, and the Re- 
public of Texas took its lone star from the flag 
of its republic and pinned it in the blue field with 
the Stars and the Stripes of the Union, to mingle 
with them in the same flag and under the same 
Constitution, in a common, glorious destiny. 
May the radiance of these stars light the liberty 
for which they stand, to the remotest corners of 
the earth ! May the sweet lilies of peace, rooted 
in the blood of revolution shed for freedom's sake, 
exhale their fragrance in the hearts of men till 
the nations of the world shall catch step to that 
sacred song which in the long ago echoed over 
Judea's hills, "On earth, peace, good-will toward 
men." — George F. Burgess. 



14 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

QUESTIONS 

1. Tell something of the author of this speech. 

2. Where and on what occasion was it spoken? In 

what year? 

3. How many people does he claim for Texas ? 

4. What advantages does he claim for his State? 

5. What is its largest industry? 

6. What resemblance between its history and that of 

the United States? 

7. Trace the similarity. 

8. Memorize the last paragraph. 



THE STORY OF MINERAL WELLS 

I '11 tell you a story strange and quaint 

But a story, they say, that's true; 
Of healing wells where strong health dwells 

'Neath Texas skies of blue. 

"lis a wonderful tale, as the legend runs, 

Of a beauteous Indian maid 
And a warrior brave, who his life to save, 

To a sun-kissed valley strayed. 

It happened, oh, ever so long ago, 

Far back in the dimming past, 
That Running Fawn one day at dawn 

A glance 'cross the prairie cast. 

As the sun rays brightened the eastern sky 

And the gray dawn turned to day, 
She saw War Cloud and his warriors proud 

To the war trail ride away. 

The war paint gleamed on each bronzed face, 
And the war plumes waved on high, 

While the war steed neighed and the war plumes 
swayed 
As the warriors passed her by. 

15 



16 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Far out on the prairie then they rode, 

And War Cloud waved his hand 
To Running Fawn — then he was gone, . 

To fight in a far of! land. 

Then the maiden waited for moons and moons, 
While the green corn turned to gold, 

And the hot sun beat in summer heat — 
She waited 'til days grew cold. 

She gazed from the lodge 'cross the rolling plain 
From dawn till the night birds sang; 

And her love was true and stronger grew 
As she thought of the war bow's twang. 

And the moon grew old and the moon grew youn 

The moon grew old again; 
From the green corn dance to the great bear dance 

She waited, her heart in pain. 

Then Running Fawn from her lodge set forth 

Her lover chief to find, 
And far across the plain in sun and rain 

Her tribe was left behind. 

She journeyed afar o'er hill and dale, 

Crossed rushing streams and sand, 
Past deep abyss where serpents hiss, 

To a strange and mystic land. 









THE STORY OF MINERAL WELLS 17 

The seasons changed as she wandered on, 

And faltering* grew her tread, 
But her love was strong the whole time long, 

As she passed through the land of dread. 

To a star-lit plain at last came she, 

In the midst of a witching night, 
Lying billowy green 'neath the ghostly sheen 

Of the pale moon 's amber light. 

She found him there, her chief, War Cloud, 

With his warriors all around ; 
Lying still and weak, unable to speak, 

At the top of a green clad mound. 

The braves no more would war whoop shout, 

No more their arrows fly; 
They had fought their fight that very night 

And died as warriors die. 

Then Running Fawn by her chieftain knelt, 

She kissed his hair, his face ; 
And all night long she chanted a song, 

A song of love and the chase. 

The flush of dawn was in the sky, 

When War Cloud raised his head 
And gazed at his love, at the skies above — 

At his warriors lying dead. 



18 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

A mist that was dark dimmed eyes once bright, 
His red blood darkened the ground, 

But the glory of fight, of that hard fought night, 
Still filled his ears with sound. 

No light in his eye for Eunning Fawn, 

No thought of the breaking day ; 
Not a shadow of thought for his tribe who sought 

For them both in the far away. 

Then the maiden lifted her voice and sang 

To the Great Spirit above ; 
Just chanted a prayer while kneeling there 

For the life of her long lost love. 

As the soft notes rang through the morning air, 

And the sun the sky did greet, 
An open trail through the misty veil 

Appeared at War Cloud's feet. 

Then Running Fawn grasped the chieftain's hand 

And led him along the way ; 
With tenderest care from every snare, 

In the light of the new-born day. 

To a valley of green came they at last, 
Where the birds sang long and free ; 

Where sweet flowers grew of gorgeous hue, 
Each kissed by the honey bee. 



THE STORY OF MINERAL WELLS 19 

A soft wind blew from the hills around, 

And the sky gleamed bright above ; 
'Twas a valley of rest by Nature blest — 

A valley of rest and love. 

In the midst of it all, clear, sparkling, bright, 
A spring from the white sands welled ; 

'Twas a fountain of youth in very truth, 
A fount where strong health dwelled. 

They knelt on the gleaming sands, the two, 

And drank of the waters clear ; 
Just splashed in the pool, in its healing cool, 

With never a thought of fear. 

Then lo, with a shout they sprang afoot, 

A mystic thing was done ; 
Their blood coursed free, they danced with glee, 

For health and strength was near. 

Then strong in youth, and hand in hand, 

With never an ache or pain, 
They started again that very day 

For tribe and lodge again. 

Came they at last to their tribe one day, 
'Twas a day in the warm, sweet spring; 

And told of the fight, of the valley bright, 
Of the cure that its waters bring. 



20 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

They sang of the water's healing power, 

They told of its mystic worth, 
'Til fame ran wide on every side 

And spread throughout the earth. 

Then far away from fair Castile 

Great Ponce de Leon came 
To seek out the truth, the Fountain of Youth, 

For he had heard of its fame., 

The red men guarded the secret well, 

He searched, but never found ; 
And for many a day it was hid away 

By the green-clad hills around. 

But the white man searched till he found at last 

The wonderful fount that heals ; 
And Mineral Wells, the story tells, — 

The secret now reveals. 

— Anonymous. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is known of the author? 

2. What references to natural scenery are in the 

poem? 

3. What habits of the Indians are mentioned ? 

4. See if you can learn what tribe of Indians lived in 

the locality of Mineral Wells. 

5. Compare Running Fawn's journey with that of 

Longfellow's "Evangeline." 






THE STORY OF MINERAL WELLS 21 

6. Who is meant by "the Great Spirit"? 

7. What healed War Cloud? 

8. Tell the story of Ponce de Leon. 

9. Find out what you can about the Mineral Wells of 

today. 

10. What peculiar rhyme do you discover in each third 

line ? 

11. Write the story of War Cloud and Running Fawn 

in your own words. 



PEACH BLOSSOM TIME 

Down in the orchard the wild birds are singing, 

' ' Peach-blossom time ! ' ' 
White-petaled, gold-hearted daisies are nodding, 

' i Peach-blossom time ! ' ' 
South winds are blowing, and bear on their pinions, 

Fragrance sublime, 
Stolen from the groves of magnolia and orange, 

In sunnier clime. 

Hearts are rejoicing, and nature o'erflowing, 

'Tis peach-blossom time ! 
Blue-birds are mating, and billing, and cooing, 

"Peach-blossom time!" 
Peach-blossom time with its wondrous elixir, 

Bounding along, 
From tiptoe to temple; and oh, how the heart- 
strings 

Vibrate with the song ! 

Open, O delicate, shell-tinted petals, 

Soft as the light, 
Yield up the aroma wrapped up in your bosoms 

Of rose tint and white ! 

Music and melody ring in the woodlands, 

Morn, noon, and night, 

22 



PEACH BLOSSOM TIME 23 

Bursting from sweet feathered throats, in a rap- 
ture 
Of wildest delight ! 

Strange does it seem that these orchards of 

blossom 
A few weeks ago 
Stood facing the norther, their bare arms extended, 

Laden with snow; 
But warm rains and sunshine, and God's wondrous 

power 
Hath clothed them in garments surpassing all 

texture 
Of hands not divine. 

Then ope your dainty hearts, pour out their fra- 
grance, 
Ablution divine ! 
While angel-voice sings in the breeze to the earth- 
land, 
* ' Peach-blossom time ! ' ' 

— Mrs. Belle Hunt Shortridge. 

QUESTIONS 

1. When is " peach blossom time"? 

2. Why is that a favorite time of the year? 

3. The beauty of this poem is threefold: (1) The 

imagery; (2) the music of the line; (3) the in- 
teresting thought presented. See if you can ap- 
preciate each of these. 



24 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

4. What is meant by "daisies are nodding"? "Won- 

drous elixir"? "Shell-tinted petals"? "North- 
er"? "Ablution divine"? 

5. Notice the difference in length between the first 

and the second line. What is gained by this 
arrangement ? 

6. In the fourth stanza there is a change. Was it 

made on purpose? See if you can find a reason 
why. 

7. What is peculiar in the last stanza? in length? in 

thought ? 

8. Judging her from this poem, what do you think 

of the author? 

9. See if you can write the thought in prose form. 






THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO 

The twenty-first of April, 1836, dawned clear 
and beautiful. It was felt by those who were to 
participate in its stirring scenes, to be the day 
upon which the conflict for Texas was to be de- 
cided. 

Early in the morning General Houston sent 
Deaf Smith, the celebrated Texas spy, with two 
or three men to destroy Vince's bridge across the 
bayou over which the Mexican army had passed, 
thus cutting off their only available avenue of es- 
cape. The daring exploit was executed almost 
in the presence of the foe. It was now decided to 
be the moment to attack Santa Anna in his in- 
trenchments. With the stillness of death the 
patriot army moved, in three divisions, to the 
charge. When within two hundred yards, they re- 
ceived the volley of the enemy's advanced column 
without quailing, and then increased their pace to 
a "double quick." 

When within seventy yards the word "Fire!' 
was given, and six hundred Texas rifles belched 
forth their deadly contents. Then the shout 
" Alamo" and " Goliad" rang along the entire 
line, and they rushed forward to a hand-to-hand 

25 



26 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

encounter. But Mexican valor had already given 
way before the impetuosity of that charge, and in 
a few minutes more the boastful legions of the 
"Napoleon of the West" were in full retreat. 
The rout soon became general. Finding the 
bridge destroyed, the Mexicans plunged into the 
bayou, where many were drowned or slain by their 
pursuers. Seven hundred dead Mexicans upon 
that day atoned for the butchery at the Alamo and 
Goliad; and seven hundred and thirty prisoners 
were in the hands of the victorious army. 

Santa Anna in vain tried to escape. He was 
discovered, on the morning of the twenty-second, 
hiding in the long grass with a blanket thrown 
over his head, and was taken to the quarters of 
General Houston. 

At the time Santa Anna was brought before him, 
Houston, who had been severely wounded in the 
battle, was lying on a mattress under a tree which 
constituted his headquarters. The President of 
Mexico, bowing low before him, said, "I am Gen- 
eral Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, a prisoner 
of war at your disposal." General Houston re- 
quested him to sit down, which he did, at the same 
time asking for opium. A piece of this drug was 
brought him, which he eagerly swallowed. He 
then proposed to purchase his freedom, but was 
answered, "That is a matter to be negotiated with 
the Government of Texas." He, however, per- 



THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO 27 

sisted in saying to Houston, "You can afford to 
be generous, you have conquered the 'Napoleon of 

the West.' " 

How to dispose of Santa Anna was a trouble- 
some question. Among the soldiers the feeling 
existed that his life only could atone for the cruel- 
ties perpetrated by his order. But prudence as 
well as humanity dictated another course, and his 
life was spared. The following agreement was 
entered into between him and the President of 
Texas : First, that he would never again take up 
arms against Texas ; second, that he should order 
all Mexican troops in Texas to return home ; third, 
that he should cause to be restored all captured 
property. 

In consideration of these conditions, he was to 
be set free. When the time came for his "release, 
the storm of popular indignation was so great, 
that President Burnet thought best to order his 
longer detention as a prisoner of war. 

Santa Anna was liberated by President Houston 
in January, 1837, and sent to Washington, D. C, 
whence he returned to Mexico. 

— From A Brief History of Texas. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Find the battle ground of San Jacinto on your 

map. 

2. What is the San Jacinto ? 



28 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

3. The Texans had 600 men ; the Mexicans had 1800. 

What would you expect to be the result of such 
a battle? 

4. How do you account for the victory of the Texans ? 

5. Write a story about General Houston. What is 

your opinion of Santa Anna? 

6. Why did they have so much trouble disposing of 

Santa Anna? 

7. Learn the three articles of agreement between him 

and the Texas Government. 

8. Find what became of Santa Anna. What did he 

mean by "Napoleon of the West"? 



FIDDLIN' A'TER SUPPER 



I shore love to play 

the fiddle 
Nearly any time o' 

day, 
When I'm feelin' in 

the notion, 
An' my fiddle 

wants to play; 
But hit's nicer a'ter 

supper 
When my day's 

work's done, you 

know, 
An' my thoughts gits 

solemncholy 

An' I play right soft an' low. 




JAKE H. HARRISON 



Then the fiddle seems to jine in, 

Like your sweetheart at the gate, 
When you're sparkin' in the evenin', 

An ' stay out a little late ; 
An' my heart hit gits to chordin' 

With the music in the strings, 
An' the fiddle gits to trimblin' 

An' jist kind o' sobs an' sings. 

29 



30 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Then my eyes they git to leaking 

An' my voice don't want to speak, 
An' I feel so awful happy 

An' so kin' o' mild an' meek, 
'At I love the whole creation, 

As I play an' walk the floor, 
An' jist crave to own a billion, 

So 'at I kin help the poor. 

An' I most forgot to mention 

'At my little daughter, Nell, 
Plays the chords upon the organ — 

An' you bet she plays 'em well — -. 
An' most always a'ter supper 

We jist have a jubilee, 
An' I git as close to heaven 

As a feller needs to be ! 

For my wife she'll set a-smilin' 

An' the baby '11 jump an' coo, 
An' I feel so good an' happy 

'At I dunno what to do ! 
An' old Nancy an' the puppies 

They shore think the music's fine, 
For they all stan ' in the entry, 

An' jist wag thar tails an' whine ! 

Now I hain't got any larnin' 
An' must labor for my bread, 



FIDDLIN' A'TER SUPPER 31 

An' I guess most ever' body- 
Will jist laugh at what I've said; 

But I tell you they 's no happ 'ness 
Like the kind a fiddle brings, 

When hit trimbles on your bosom, 
An' jist kind o' sobs an' sings. 

— Jake H. Harrison. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What do you know of Mr. Harrison? What kind 

of a man do you take him to be? Where does 
he live? Write him a letter. 

2. What is a fiddle? Describe it in a short composi- 

tion. 

3. Why does Mr. Harrison choose "after supper"? 

4. Do you like the poet 's idea of making the fiddle his 

companion, as if it were a person? 

5. What effect does the music have on the musician 

as he plays? 

6. What outside things add to the interest? 

7. What is gained by bringing his little daughter, Nell, 

into the scene ? 

8. Describe the effect on different members of the 

family. 

9. Do you like the poem better because it represents 

the story teller as using the language of careless 
conversation ? 

10. Correct some of the misspelt words and note the 

effect on the interest of the reader. 

11. What is this form of expression called? 



32 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

12. Is the feeling produced by the poem one of joy 

or sadness on the poet? On the reader? 

13. How many stanzas has the poem? How many 

lines in each? 

14. Which lines rhyme? Does the rhyme add to the 

interest ? 



THE LONE QUAIL 

I saw him today in the twilight gray, 

He was limping and aione ; 
And his actions said that his mate was dead, 

And his covey of children gone ; 
And dragging a wing, now a useless thing, 

He hid himself in the weeds, — 
Striking evidence of man's brutal sense 

And his savage, cruel deeds. 

He was left to rest near his hidden nest, 

All the golden, summer days ; 
And he led his brood in their search for food 

In the quiet, covert ways, 
Till November came with its deeds of shame, 

When he quickly was bereft 
By the hunters ' guns, of his loving ones, 

Until he alone is left. 

He may call in vain when he looks for grain 

Where the yellow stubble stands ; 
He may cry "Bob White" in the morning light, 

From the fields and timber lands, 
Like a plaintive flute ; but his mate is mute, 

And his covey, too, is dead ; 

33 



34 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

They have met their doom through the crashing 
boom 
And the shotgun's cruel lead. 



Will the God above in His boundless love, 

He who sees the sparrow fall, 
Disregard the wail of that wounded quail, 

When He hears that lonely call 1 
No ; the day shall come when His creatures dumb 

Will demand the punishment 
Of the vandals rude who will kill a brood, 

Through their pure destructive bent. 

And the judgment seat will its justice mete 

To the killers in its way; 
They shall surely hear, with a quaking fear, 

Their doom on the Judgment Day ! 
For His creatures all, be they great or small, 

Have His constant love and care; 
So the man who kills, and his game bag fills, 

Of his acts had best beware. 



Of his own accord he had made him lord 

Of the lives his Master gave, 
And he cuts them short in his cruel sport ; 

While he sends them to the grave, 
In his hungry maw, by his vandal law, — 

While in arrogance he pleads 



THE LONE QUAIL 35 

That his cruel might gives him sacred right 
To supply, through them, his needs. 

— Jake H. Harrison. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is a quail? A partridge? Bob White? 

2. Read this poem and then read "The Last Bob 

White ' ' by Whitney Montgomery, and note how 
they are alike and how they differ. 

3. Why is November mentioned? 

4. Which do you like better, a poem, a picture, or a 

story ? 

5. Which does this poem give you? 

6. What is yellow stubble? Flute? Covey? Cruel 

lead? 

7. How does the hunter justify his deed? Does his 

excuse satisfy you? 

8. Write a composition about the lone quail. 



WHAT THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO MEANT 



The San Jacinto River 

Told the story to the sea; 
And Europe, listening from afar, 

Proclaimed young Texas free! 

And what did free- 
dom mean to the 
thirty thousand An- 
glo-Americans set- 
tled in 1836 in the 
Mexican province of 
Texas'? It meant 
more than life, just 
as the uncertainties, 
insults, injustice, and 
cruelties which thev 
had endured meant 
more than death. Al- 
ready deprived of 
the rights of free- 
men, they heard the order that they must speak 
the Spanish language, conform to the Catho- 
lic faith, and give up their fire-arms, their only 
means of defense against wild animals and wilder 
Indians. The Mexican yoke had grown too heavy 

36 




MRS. MAEY V. JACKSON 



WHAT THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO MEANT 37 

for white men. Texans were forced to revolution. 
In the bitter lessons that they had learned at 
Goliad and the Alamo, they had come to know 
what they might expect from Mexican clemency. 

The freedom bought at San Jacinto meant, 
therefore, more than that won at Yorktown; for 
England has ever been a merciful mistress to her 
colonies. San Jacinto meant, first of all, the right 
of every man to bear arms for the protection of 
his own household ; it meant the right to speak his 
mother tongue, to pray his own prayer, and sing 
his own hymns. It meant a free press, the oppor- 
tunity of material wealth, the possibility of educa- 
tion for his children and his children's children. 

It meant more. It meant a government of lib- 
erty, of the people, for the people, by the people. 
A nation was born; and it was that most satisfac- 
tory form of government, a republic. Thus did 
Texas declare her faith and publish it to the na- 
tions of the earth. 

It is hard for us to conceive what the birth of a 
nation means. In 1701 Prussia was born a king- 
dom into the European family of nations. And 
what did it mean? Militarism, the ever pres- 
ent sound of the fife and drum, a turning back 
toward medievalism, a hateful system that keeps 
the young manhood of the country ever prepared 
or preparing for war, a system that with various 
changes has served as a model for the entire con- 
tinent of Europe, and is both vicious and vitiating. 



38 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

But young Texas stood for democracy, and with 
singular prescience chose a star for her emblem; 
for she proclaimed anew peace and good will. 
The people were sovereign, and peace prevails 
where the people rule. 

Had this been the only result of that momentous 
twenty-first of April the battle of San Jacinto 
would still have been glorious. But events that 
followed in logical sequence gave San Jacinto a 
place among the decisive battles of world history. 
It was only natural that Texas, with a citizenship 
almost entirely Anglo-American, should seek and 
gain admission into the United States. Safe un- 
der the protection of the Stars and Stripes, we 
thank God today that we are spared much suffer- 
ing as has fallen to our old yoke-fellow, Coahuila, 
and to other states of the republic of Mexico* 
Because of little San Jacinto, we sit today by pro- 
tected firesides and enjoy the results of cheerful 
human toil in a land fair in field, full in orchard, 
rich in all that blesses Christian civilization. 

But the annexation of Texas to the United 
States precipitated the Mexican War which re- 
sulted in the ceding to our country of a vast and 
fertile stretch of territory, including the present 
States of California, Utah, Nevada, and a part of 
New Mexico. 

Because of San Jacinto, the United States 
stretched at last from ocean to ocean, and because 
of her guardianship, mighty results have sprung 



WHAT THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO MEANT 39 

from a battle that lasted only eighteen minutes! 

— Mrs. Mary V. Jackson. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Memorize the opening stanza. 

2. Where did those 30,000 Anglo-Americans come 

from ? 

3. Who were some of their leaders? 

4. Who issued those orders from Mexico ? 

5. Write a story of the lessons "learned at Goliad 

and the Alamo." 

6. What is the meaning of the expression, "A nation 

was born"? 

7. Why does the writer refer to Prussia? What is 

"militarism"? 

8. Why is Coahuila called "a yoke-fellow"? 



THE LAST BOB WHITE 

Oh, how they murdered poor Bob White today ! 

The booming guns were heard on every side, 
From early morn till evening passed away, 

The frightened coveys scattered far and wide. 

No spot on earth could hide him from his foes, 
For keen of scent the eager pointer came, 

And flushed him from the ground, and as he rose 
He fell before the hunter's deadly aim. 

But when the day was done, and all was still 
And twilight's purple shades began to fall, 

From off the summit of yon leafy hill 
I heard the echo of a lonely call. 

It called into the night, but all in vain ; 

For none of his feathered mates was there 
To send the call responsive back again, 

And come to meet him through the chill night 
air. 

They say this wanton slaughter is not sin — 

That birds and beasts were made for man's de- 
light, 
But oh, there is such lonely sadness in 

The plaintive calling of the last Bob White ! 

— Whitney Montgomeby. 

40 



THE LAST BOB WHITE 41 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is referred to as "Bob White"? Why so 

called ? 

2. What time is referred to as "today"? When is 

the season open? 

3. Have birds feelings like people? 

4. Why, do you think, do persons like to kill them ? 

5. What harm does the Bob White do? What good 

does he do ? 

6. How many lines in this stanza? 

7. This line is called "iambic pentameter." 

8. Two syllables taken together, with the second 

stressed, is called an iambic foot. How many 
such feet in each line of this poem? 



A LION HUNT IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 



High up in the 
snowy fastnesses of 
the Rocky Mountains 
the biting cold of the 
thin atmosphere is 
not tempered to the 
wants of the wild 
herds and packs and 
flocks that flee to 
them in summer from 
the haunts of man. 

As winter ap- 
proaches, the snow 
circle descends the 
Leonard lemmon mountain sides, and 

day by day the grazing herds must follow the de- 
scending lines of subsistence. 

The remorseless packs follow the trail of the 
herds and pick off belated stragglers. The flocks, 
which seem independent, but which must, in fact, 
subsist on the remnant left by the herds or on the 
spoil left by the packs, drop down day by day to 

42 




A LION HUNT 



43 



the lower levels which they left some months be- 
fore. 

And so, all chased from above by the bitter cold 
down the mountain slopes, the struggle for exist- 
ence goes on like an ever repeated drama. Elk 
and deer lead the van; wolves and wildcats and 
mountain lions and bears hang on the rear ; grouse 




ELK AND DEER LEAD THE VAN 



run among them, eagles and hawks soar above 
them. 

By the middle of winter this downward proces- 
sion reaches the habitations of man. Then the 
herds depend upon isolation and the period of 
exemption by law for security. Then the car- 
nivora find their prey increased by the young of 
domestic animals. Then man is apt to recall that 



44 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

he is lord of creation, and to take his rifle and 
go forth to assert his lordship. 

One year the mountain lions were so numerous 
and their depredations were so exasperating that a 
call was issued in the public prints for a meeting 
of sportsmen to arrange for an expedition against 
mountain lions. 

Hunters came from all points of the compass. 
Some came on foot, some on horseback, and some 
in a palace car. The problem was to divide the 
crowd into organized parties, with mounts, packs 
of clogs, and skillful guides for each division. 
Eight districts were selected for hunting grounds. 
The party we shall follow were gathered in a road 
wagon pulled by four mountain ponies, and driven 
eighteen miles to a ranch house where mounts and 
dogs were provided. 

The mountain lion is himself one of the greatest 
still-hunters in the world. He has velvet paws 
that make no sound. He is built for darkness and 
deceit, and his stealthy movements mark his 
treacherous instincts. On the chase he comes out 
from cover only at the last moment, and he 
springs upon his quarry from behind. 

It is doubtless because he is such a master in 
this art that it is so easy for him to elude the still- 
hunter who comes after him. One might as well 
hunt for his shadow against the sun as to still- 
hunt the mountain lion. Instances are on record 
of his evading the still-hunter for hours and then 



A LION HUNT 



45 



stealthily following liim to the vicinity of the 
camp. 

And nature has provided him with the power of 
effacing himself till the moment for attack arrives. 
Man has no physical powers to meet this special 
gift. His eye requires light; he walks erect and 




THE MOUNTAIN LION OR COUGAR 



each step ends in a jar. But man makes up for 
these defects. The velvet foot of the lion, soft as 
it is, makes its broad mark in the feathery snow. 
Man sees the imprint and calls his ally, the hound, 
to his aid. Then the animal with an eve is chased 
by the animal with a nose. The lion's power of 



46 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

concealing himself from the eye is of no avail 
when the chase is up, for to the nose of the dog 
the cougar has left behind a reeking trail; and 
this trail, so faint to man, the dog seizes and 
winds up to the quarry itself. 

ii 

Our party had a magnificent pack of hounds, led 
by old Hec, who had a history and a reputation. 
At five in the afternoon old Hec " opened,' ' and 
every huntsman knew that the chase was up. 
Our leader made a quick dash in order to cut his 
fighting dogs out of the pack and save them for 
the finish. In a chase the trail is given to the fox- 
hounds, and when the animal is ■ * treed, ' ' the fight- 
ing dogs are given liberty so that they can aid in 
the struggle that must ensue when the lion springs 
from the tree. 

By some mischance, a loose stone or a snow- 
covered pit, Mr. GofFs horse, going at full speed, 
fell, caught his rider's foot and broke his ankle. 
The pack sped up the gorge on the trail. The 
horse clambered to his feet, but our guide lay 
stretched upon the snow. We lifted him on his 
horse and turned back to the ranch house, and one 
of the party took a different route for a doctor. 

The pack had gone, and Mr. Goff" said that if 
they treed a lion they would stay with him till the 
horn called them off or starvation raised the siege. 
If they chased for miles and lost the trail at last, 



A LION HUNT 47 

they might be days getting back to the ranch. 
And there was but one more day of our appointed 
time. It was concluded on all sides that the hunt 
was over. 

Not a hound returned during the night, and 
there was nothing we could do the next morning 
but turn our lion hunt into a dog hunt. For this 
purpose we did not need rifles; but some of the 
party, from force of habit, carried revolvers. We 
mounted and rode to the scene of the accident, and 
from there followed the trail of the clogs where we 
could, guessing the direction, where we must. 

A little after noon the dosrs were dimlv seen 
hundreds of feet above us, gathered around an old 
tree. When a shout was raised calling the dogs in, 
old Hec raised his nose in the air and made the 
welkin ring. The rest of the pack made a noisy, 
if not harmonious, chorus, and the hearts of the 
hunters began to beat rapidly. "A lion, sure,' 
said one sanguine Nimrod. "A cat, at least,' 
said another. "If I owned those dogs, money 
couldn't buy them," said another. 

We put spurs to our horses and hurried up the 
mountain, and our spirits rose faster than our alti- 
tude. The opinion became universal that it was a 
lion, and a big one. In a few minutes more we had 
neared the tree considerably. Suddenly those of 
us who happened to be looking saw a tawny object 
flash through the air as the lion sprang from the 
tree to the ground. 



48 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

There was a sharp, brief chase, accompanied by 
the baying of hounds, and the lion, close pressed, 
again took to a tree. How eager we were that he 
should keep his perch till we arrived on the scene. 
How we urged our horses ! Soon we could see 
patches of the lion's skin and the dogs with up- 
turned muzzles beneath the tree. A lucky rifle 
shot would have ended the matter, but our rifles 
were miles away. One of our party took a chance 
with a pistol shot. The lion sprang to the ground, 
knocked over two dogs that charged, and made a 
dash for liberty. 

By this time the excitement was intense. The 
lion no doubt felt himself in desperate straits. 
The dogs had held the quarry all night in the bitter 
wind, and now the belated hunter had had a shot 
and had apparently done no execution. 

The party rode nearer, and the hunter most ad- 
vantageously situated took a shot with his pistol. 
The pack sprang at the lion, that is, the pack with 
the exception of Hec. He waited till the wild 
jumble of dogs and lion showed what he thought 
was an opening, then sprang to the attack. 

The lion met it with a blow which might have 
shaken an ox, and Hec rolled down the mountain, 
his scalp and shoulder laid open in several places. 
The other dogs, one by one, and bearing various 
wounds, drew out, though they still stood guard. 
Old Hec gathered himself together and returned 
to the attack. 



A LION HUNT 49 

Now his savage instincts were on fire and he 
threw prudence to the winds. He sprang with 
full force against the lion's throat and the blow 
carried the lion over. Instantly the remainder of 
the pack jumped on the exposed parts of the lion's 
body. What happened in the next few moments 
no man may record. Charles Gibler, an old time 
hunter who has killed every kind of big game 
known to this generation in the United States, felt 
a hunter's instinct to save a faithful dog rising so 
strongly that he determined to take a part. 

He jumped from his horse, took his revolver in 
his hand, and approached the fighting, bleeding 
group. When he reached a proper position he 
could not shoot for fear of killing a dog. He 
moved closer. The lion caught sight of the ap- 
proaching hunter and at once abandonee) the dogs 
and crept toward the man. Gibler stopped and 
looked steadfastly into the green eyes of the in- 
furiated beast. 

It seemed an age. Nearer and nearer crept the 
beast with slowly moving tail; still as a statue 
stood the man. 

Now by its slow approach the lion had reached 
the point for a spring. It crouched closer to the 
ground. The spring and the shot seemed to be 
simultaneous. The lion fell dead within two feet 

of Gibler. 

Leonard Lemmon, 

Courtesy of Farm and Ranch, 






50 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

QUESTIONS 

1. Where are the Kocky Mountains ? 

2. What is a snow circle ? A cougar ? A quarry ? 

3. What is meant by carnivora? Upturned muzzle? 

4. What is the period of exemption by law ? Is this a 

good law? 

5. Why is man called the lord of creation ? 

6. Note carefully how the author begins this story. 

How he ends it. How does the body of the story 
differ ? 

7. What is a climax ? Where is it in this story ? How 

does the author secure it? How may you de- 
scribe his style ? 

8. Write the story in your own composition, within 

one hundred and fifty words. 



\ 



YOKONAH 

When the night is dark and dreary, 

And the winds are loud and high, 
And the fleeting clouds are drifting 

Swift athwart the leaden sky — 
Then I hear a sad and plaintive 

Moaning sound, — 
And my startled ear, attentive, 

Listens to catch the sigh profound, 
For it comes from out the branches 

Of the sycamore that stands 
Near my window waving towards me, 

What appears like ghostly hands. 

For I look and see the outline 

Well-defined against the sky, 
Waving high its arms in anguish 

As the stormy gust sweeps by, 
And it seems an Indian warrior, 

One of old ! 
Such as those whose ancient glory, 

Still adown the ages roll, 
And I see the mantle floating 

Eound the tall, majestic form, 
While his crested plume is waving 

With the wildly sobbing storm. 

51 



52 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 






But a weariness o'ercomes me, 

And I turn to rest and dreams, — 
When against my window — hearken ! 

Like a finger-tip, it seems, 
And I look, and lo ! the Indian 

Once again 
Looms before me, and I see him, 

Tapping on my window pane. 
And he waves me to come near him, 

And he sighs a mournful tale, 
And his voice sounds weird and dreary 

Mingled with the tempest 's wail ! 

"I was once a mighty chieftain, 

And Yokonah was my name ; 
I will tell thee of my valor, 

For it means the Burning Flame ; 
And o'er all these wide-spread prairies, 

With a band 
Of my noble braves I wandered — 

I was chieftain of the land. 
But the Indians' day of glory, 

Like the dying sun has set, — 
Though it sheds a softened radiance 

O'er the sky of mem'ry yet. 

"Dost thou think, thou foolish pale face, 

Thou art wiser in thy pride 
Than my mighty band of warriors 

When we trod these prairies wide? 



YOKONAH 53 

Then, my eagle glance undaunted, 

Scanned the plain, 
And our f oemen knew our valor 

In their hosts of warriors slain ; 
Then our wampum belts were heavy 

With their scalps all reeking — wet — 
And their scattered tribes diminished, 

Tell our tale of glory yet! 

"But, alas, I could no longer 

Wield my weapons as of yore, 
And there stood one night a warrior 

Just before my wigwam door, — 
In the dim light, tall and shadowy, 

He stood there, 
And he waved me on to follow 

To the Spirit Land most fair; 
I was gathered to my fathers 

In the Happy Hunting Ground, 
But to thee I'll not discover 

This deep mystery profound. 

"And my form — they laid it gently 

On mv mother Earth's soft breast 
While they chanted loud — compelling 

Evil spirits from their guest. 
And they placed my bow and arrow 

In my hand, 
For they knew that I would need them 

In the happy hunting land ; 



54 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

But the centuries passed o'er me, 
And my dust resolved once more 

By a fixed decree of nature, 
Then became this sycamore. 

"But 'tis only when the tempest 

'er the night-winds wildly shriek, 
That my spirit comes to quicken 

This fair tree, that it may speak. 
Now I swear thee, palefaced woman, 

With a vow, 
That ye tell my tale of triumph, 

How, with spear and bended bow, 
I have put to flight my f oemen 

On the war-path's deadly trail, 
While within their camps resounded 

Woman's agonizing wail!" 

What is this? The day is breaking 

And the storm has passed away, 
And the East with rosy blushes 

Heralds soft the coming day ; 
And I look to see the chieftain 

Of the night, 
But behold : his form is vanished 

In the clear, revealing light, 
And I would know that I would deem it 

A delusion of the brain, 
If his fingers were not tapping 

Still upon my window pane ! 

— Mrs. Fannie Baker Darden. 



YOKONAH 55 

QUESTIONS 

Note two features of this poem : 

1. The natural phenomena as they occur; the dark 

night, the tree as the wind blows the branches 
against the window pane ; then the storm passing 
and the sky clear when the sun rises. 

2. The writer's dream as it connects itself with these 

happenings. 

Trace them carefully through the poem. 

3. Could the scene of this be in Texas? 

4. What interest is added by using such expressions 

as ' ' one of old, ' ' " Ancient glory, ' ' ' adown the 
ages roll," "the centuries passed o'er me"? 

5. Can you draw a picture of the Indian chieftain? 

Or make a word picture of him ? 

6. What does his name mean? 

7. Why did he have to disappear with the light? 

8. In the third stanza from the last, what is meant by 

his dust 's being resolved by a fixed decree of na- 
ture and becoming the sycamore ? 

9. In the stanza next to the last, why does the poet 

use the pronoun form "ye"? 

10. How many lines in the stanza? How many sylla- 

bles in the line ? 

11. Note what lines end with the same sound. What 

is this called? 

12. Do you like the effect of the short fifth line ? Why ? 



EULOGY ON FLACO, CHIEF OF THE LIPANS 



My Brother:— My 
heart is sad. A dark 
cloud rests upon your 
nation. Grief has 
sounded in your 
camp. The voice of 
Flaco is silent. His 
words are not heard 
in council. The chief 
is no more. His life 
has fled to the Great 
Spirit. The eyes are 
closed. His heart no 
longer leaps at the 

SAM HOUSTON gight of the buffa l J 

The voices of your camp are no longer heard to 
cry " Flaco has returned from the chase !" Your 
chiefs look down upon the earth and groan in 
trouble. Y 7 our warriors weep. The loud voice 
of grief is heard from your women and children. 
The song of birds is silent. The ears of your peo- 
ple hear no pleasant sound. Sorrow whispers in 
the winds. The noise of the tempest passes — it 
is not heard. Your hearts are heavy. 

The name of Flaco brought joy to all hearts. 

56 




EULOGY ON FLACO 57 

Joy was on every face ! Your people were happy. 
Flaco is no longer seen in the fight ; his voice is no 
longer heard in battle ; the enemy no longer make 
a path for his glory ; his valor is no longer a guard 
for your people; the right arm of your nation is 
broken. Flaco was a friend to his white brothers. 
They will not forget him. They will remember 
the red warrior. His father will not be forgotten. 
We will be kind to the Lipans. Grass shall not 
grow in the path between us. Let your wise men 
give the counsel of peace. Let your young men 
walk in the white path. The grey-headed men of 
your nation will teach wisdom. I will hold my 
red brothers by the hand. 

Thy Brother, 
"Washington, Sam Houston. 

March 28, 1843. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is a eulogy? 

2. Find out what you can about the Lipan tribe of 

Indians. 

3. How did General Houston become so well ac- 

quainted with the Indians? 

4. What part of Texas was inhabited by the Indians 

in Houston 's time ? 

5. How did Houston treat the Indians after he became 

President of the Republic of Texas? 

6. Notice the length of sentences ; the references to 

birds, beasts, etc. Do these make the thought 
more interesting ? 



MINDING THE GAP 



There 's a radiant 
beauty on the 
hills — 
The year before us 
walks with added 
bloom ; 
But ah! 'tis but the 
hectic flush that 
lights 
The pale consump- 
tive to an early 
tomb — 
The dying glory that 
plays around the 
day 

When that which made it bright hath passed 
away! 




MRS. MOLLIE MOORE DAVIS 



A mistiness broods in the air — the swell 

Of east winds, slowly weaving Autumn's pall, 

With dirge-like sadness, wanders up the dell ; 
And red leaves from the maple branches fall 

With scarce a sound. What strange, mysterious 
rest! 
Hath Nature bound the lotus to her breast? 

58 



MINDING THE GAP 59 

But hark ! a long and mellow cadence wakes 

The echoes from their rocks. How clear and 
high 

Among the rounded hills its gladness breaks 
And floats, like incense, toward the vaulted sky ! 

It is the harvest hymn ! a triumph tone 
It rises like those swelling notes of old 

That welcomed Ceres to her golden throne, 

When through the crowded streets her chariot 
rolled. 

It is the laborers' chorus ! For the reign 
Of plenty hath begun — of golden grain. 

Her cheeks are flushed with triumph, as the fields 
Bow to our feet with riches ! How the eyes 

Grow full with gladness as they yield 

Their ready treasures ! How hearts arise 

To join with gladness in the mellow chime — 
"The harvest time! The glorious harvest 
time ! ' ' 

It is the harvest, and the gathered corn 
Is piled in yellow heaps about the field ; 

And homely wagons from the break of morn 
Until the sun glows like a crimson shield 

In the far west, go staggering homeward bound, 
And with the dry husks strew the trampled 
ground. 



60 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

It is the harvest — and an hour ago 

I sat with half closed eyes beside the " spring," 
And listened idly to its dreamy flow, 

And heard afar the gay and ceaseless ring 
Of song and labor from the harvesters — 

Heard faint and careless as a sleeper hears. 

My little brother came with bonnding step, 
And bent him low beside the shaded stream, 

And from the fountain drank with eager lip 
While I, half rousing from my dream, 

Asked where he had spent this still summer day — 
"Chasing the birds, or on the hill at play?" 

Backward he tosses his golden head, and threw 
A glance disdainful on my idle hands, 

And with a proud light in his eye of blue, 
Answered as deep his bare feet in the sands 

He thrust and waved his baby hand in scorn — 

u Ah, no; down at the cornfield since the morn 
I've been minding the gap !" 

' ' Minding the gap ! ' ' My former dream was gone, 

Another in its place ; I saw a scene 
As fair as ever an autumn sun shone on — 

Down by a meadow, large and smooth and green, 
Two little barefoot boys, sturdy and strong 
And fair, here in the corn, the whole day long, 

Minding the gap ! 



MINDING THE GAP 61 

Minding the gap ! And as the years swept by 
Like moments, I beheld those boys again ; 

And patriot hearts in their breasts beat high, 
And on their brows was set the seal of men ; 

And guns were on their shoulders, and they trod 

Back and forth, with measured tread, upon the sod, 
Near where our army slept, 
Minding the gap ! 

Minding the gaps ! My brothers, while you guard 

The open places where a foe might creep — 
A mortal foe — oh, mind those other gaps — 

The open places of the heart! My brothers, 
keep 
Watch over them ! 

The open places of the heart — the gaps 

Made by the restless hands of Doubt and Care — 

Could we but keep, like holy sentinels, 

Innocence and Faith forever guarding there, 

Ah, how much of woe and shame would flee 

Affrighted back from their blest purity ! 

No gloom or sadness from the outer world, 
With feet unholy then would enter in, 

To grasp the golden treasures of the soul, 
And bear them forth to sorrow and to sin ! 

The heart's proud fields — its harvests full and 
fair! 



62 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Innocence and love, could we but keep them there, 
Minding the gaps ! 

— Mrs. Mollie Moore Davis. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Read and re-read the first two stanzas closely to get 

the meaning. 

2. What is a " hectic flush," and why does the writer 

refer to it here ? 

3. What time of the year is it? 

4. Where does the writer represent herself to be? 

5. Who interrupts her dream ? 

6. What conversation takes place? 

7. Can you draw his picture, or describe him? 

8. Where does he next appear to the reader? What 

is he doing? 

9. What lessons of life does the writer draw from the 

harvest scene? 

10. What is meant by "harvest home"? 

11. Is this a Texas scene? Give reasons for your opin- 

ion. 

12. Note how the number of lines in the stanzas vary. 

Do you find any explanation of this ? 



TEXAS 

I crave not for her cities 
Nor towns where man hath trod, 

But I love her lonely prairies, 
Her great wide skies of God. 

I love her lazy rivers 

That wed the Mexique sea, 

And oh, her heaven-born breezes 
Breathe rarest songs to me. 

Oh, if I could but sing them, 

Could hymn pure Nature 's bars, 

Those songs would live forever 
And echo through the stars. 

Would echo till the angels 
Attuned the free refrains, 

And breathed celestial music — 
The poetry of the plains ! 

I love the Mesa mountains 
That woo the Texas skies, 

'Neath azure veils of beauty, 
They dream of Paradise. 

G3 



64 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

I love her sweeps of distance, 
Her drowsy miraged seas, 

Her choirs of singing songsters, 
Her weeping bannered trees. 

And when the sunset's laces 
Befringe the couch of night, 

I love her royal pictures 
Of far eternal light. 

Oh, if I could but paint them, 
Could hint the twilight's art, 

"What scenes of heavenly splendor 
Would gild each human heart. 

Vain, vain such fond ambition, 
Man is but earthy sod, 

His efforts are as nothing 
Beside the works of God. 

Yes ; you can have the city, 
Its fuss and fun and care ; 

Give me a life of freedom, 
'Midst castles in the air. 

Your operas' stifled music 
Contains no songs for me — 

I want the vibrant breezes, 
The anthems of the sea. 



TEXAS 65 

Give me the low of cattle, 

The coyote's lone "Id-Go!" 
The sighings of the Norther, 

The owl's "Whit-tu-woo." 

I ask not for companions 

Whose presence might intrude ; 

My dearest friend is Nature — 
I love the solitude. 

Ah, who would then be richer ? 

My wealth is all divine — ' 
The clouds, the stars, the prairies, 

The world, the world, is mine ! ' ' 

— Larry Chittenden. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What do you- like best in this poem? 

2. Is it a story, or a picture, or several pictures ? 

3. What is the Mexique sea? 

4. What does he mean by the rivers wedding the sea ? 

5. What, by "Nature's bars"? 

6. What do you understand by the "poetry of the 

plains"? 

7. What is meant by "miraged seas"? 

8. What are "weeping bannered trees"? 

9. What difference does the poet find between the city 

and the prairie ? 

10. Who is his dearest friend? What does he mean? 

11. Would you call this a nature poem? 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN, THE FATHER OF TEXAS 

How seldom, friend, a good great man inherits 
Honor and wealth with all his worth and pains ! 

It seems a story from the world of spirits 
When any man obtains that which he merits, 

Or any merits that which he obtains ! 

— Coleridge. 

Stephen Fuller Austin was of all men who 
helped build our republic, the man whose wisdom, 
integrity, true courage, and steadfastness of pur- 
pose were the cornerstone, arch, and keystone of 
the structure — the very pledge and fulfillment 
of the promise of success. Yet he took no care of 
such things as recognition, praise, the verdict of 
posterity, etc. ; content to build that others might 
inhabit, to sow that others might reap. For jus- 
tice is a heavenly maiden, and, though coyly she 
may linger, she rarely loses sight of the true hero ; 
and today, when the fame of other Texans have, 
like the eucalyptus, grown into giant trees, ab- 
sorbing all the rivulets and rills into their shining 
foliage and stately trunks, she walks the waters 
no longer rocked by passion, strife, and invective, 
and pointing to the lotus, says, "The name of the 
founder of your greatness, tho life and vitality of 

66 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN 67 

your true hero — Stephen F. Austin — will be found 
inscribed on the jewel therein. ' ' 

Stephen F. Austin is destined to be recognized 
by posterity as he was in life, as he was esteemed 
by his compatriots, not only as one of the wisest 
and purest of patriots, and most noble and unself- 
ish of men, but he to whom Texas owes her exist- 
ence today, and the foundation stone on which the 
glories of all her history were laid in the past. 
Gentle and refined as Hamilton, patriotic and in- 
corruptible as Washington, gifted with the po- 
litical prescience of Patrick Henry, calm and pa- 
tient as William of Orange, he presents in his life 
a type of manhood that sheds honor not only upon 
his state, but upon the whole world. 

Many have an idea of a rough, unlettered pio- 
neer, a man fond of the excitements and dangers 
of a frontier life, half hunter, half soldier, going 
with equal valor into a deer hunt or an Indian 
fight. How contrary the facts ! Small in stature, 
delicate in physique, modest in deportment, po- 
etical in taste, refined and cultured, ever inclining 
more to books and the sweet voices of nature than 
the rough companionship of border men. Yet 
with moral courage and firmness of purpose that 
enabled him to meet the exigencies of every hour, 
and to conquer circumstances, making the most 
adverse of them the obedient servants of his 
will. 

Of the parentage of Stephen F. Austin, nothing 



68 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

need be said, as it is too well known to need repeti- 
tion here ; but to the philosophic mind which may 
agree with Herbert Spencer's theory advanced in 
his " History of Sociology/ ' confirmation may be 
found in the long series of preparation for the 
"Man of Destiny,' ' who was to work the task of 
planting a colony and nursing it into a stalwart 
nation of free and independent people. Every 
circumstance, in his father's and in his own life, 
moves on like the scenes in a Greek drama, over 
which an unseen, inscrutable, inexorable necessity 
presides. Fortune herself, sitting like the fabled 
Parcae, while seemingly marring the web, yet 
bringing order and beauty, strength and per- 
petuity, unity and design into the fabric that 
eventually should become a flag of triumph to the 
oppressed — a gonfalon of hope and cheer to every 
weary, exiled patriot heart. 

Born at Austinville, Virginia, on the third of 
November, 1793, he was six years old when the 
Spanish government conceded a league of land in- 
cluding the mine — a Barton mine — to his father, 
Moses Austin, who immediately moved his family 
to the then far away upper Louisiana, now in- 
cluded in the state of Missouri. 

This was the cradle of the infant Stephen, fit- 
ting him to become the leader of his people in the 
promised land. His surroundings were in every 
way exceptional. The leaders of the community 
were men of birth, education, and refinement, 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN 69 

while the body of the people were brave, indus- 
trious pioneers, whose axes and rifles were 
speedily converting the wilderness into a garden, 
and making desert places bloom like the rose, 
their hostile neighbors, the Osage Indians, serving 
as a fine training school in all that watchfulness, 
self-reliance, coolness, and intrepidity which sub- 
sequent events in his life made so necessary, and 
of which he showed himself so conspicuous a 
possessor. 

The years from 1804 to 1808 were spent in 
academic pursuits in Connecticut. Then return- 
ing to the West, he entered Transylvania Univer- 
sity, Lexington, Kentucky, and was proudly and 
fondly remembered for years afterward by his 
classmates for his scholarly attainments, gentle- 
manly bearing, and his high character of integ- 
rity and manly independence. 

At this period the great financial loss of Moses 
Austin, growing out of the failure of a bank where 
he had large deposits, compelled him (by a nice 
sense of honor), to surrender his vast possessions; 
and in his fifty-fifth year, when most men are 
looking about for a quiet retreat in which to pass 
in rest the evening of their day, and would have 
been bowed to the earth in inert hopelessness by 
such a great and unexpected blow, he, true to the 
old " Mayflower blood," in his veins, rose in cour- 
age and determination commensurate with the 
hour. 



70 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Aside the dust eloud rolled — 

The waster seemed the builder, too, 

Upspringing from the ruined old 
He saw the new. 

Calling his son into consultation, he unfolded to 
him his great plan — the colonization of Texas. 

The gulf coast, intersected by the Brazos and 
Colorado Eivers, — one of the Eden spots of the 
earth ; soil rivaling that of the Nile ; waters teem- 
ing with fish, mollusks, Crustacea of every kind 
and description; forests full of game; a sky as 
bright and clear as that of Hellas, with a climate 
as soft and salubrious as that of fair Italy — had 
been selected by Moses Austin for settlement. 
After a thorough exploration, the son concurred in 
this opinion. 

Governor Martinez requested Austin to prepare 
a plan for the distribution of the land to each set- 
tler. Austin did this, making one that was highly 
advantageous to the settlers, and at the same time 
regardful of their safety, which, in the wilder- 
ness condition of the country, required that the 
colony should be compact to secure safety against 
the Indians. 

The basis of the plan was that each head of a 
family was to receive six hundred and forty acres 
of land; for the wife, three hundred and twenty; 
an additional hundred and sixty for each child, 
and eighty for each slave. When this plan had 
been presented in writing, Austin was granted au- 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN 71 

thority from the governor to promise each settler 
this quantity. He was also commissioned to exer- 
cise full authority in the local government of the 
colony until it should he otherwise organized. 

When Austin returned to New Orleans, he made 
his designs puhlic through the newspapers, invit- 
ing immigration, stating the numher of acres 
granted each settler, also that every one must pay 
twelve and one-half cents per acre, Austin taking 
upon himself all expenses of surveying and all 
charges whatever in procuring titles, translating 
deeds, etc. This twelve and one-half cents was 
designed as a fund to supply poor immigrants with 
needed supplies, to construct defenses against the 
Indians, and to defray the expenses of local gov- 
ernment. 

Without entering into a detailed history of the 
settlement and noticing all the difficulties, priva- 
tions, and dangers that were surmounted hy the 
first immigrants, it is sufficient to say that such 
detail would present examples of inflexible per- 
severance and fortitude on the part of these set- 
tlers which have been seldom equalled in any coun- 
try or in any enterprise. 

The immigrants were compelled to pack corn 
from the Sabine or Bexar, and it was very scarce 
at the latter place. They were totally destitute of 
bread and salt; coffee, sugar, etc., were remem- 
bered and hoped for at some future day. There 
was no other dependence for subsistence but the 



72 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

wild game, such as buffalo, bear, deer, wild tur- 
keys, and wild horses (mustangs). The Indians 
rendered it quite dangerous ranging the country 
for buffalo, deer were very poor and very scarce, 
owing to a failure in the mast; and poor venison, 
as is well known, is the poorest and least nutri- 
tious of all meat. Mustang horses, however, were 
abundant, and it is estimated that one hundred 
of them were eaten in the first two years. The 
Karankaway Indians were very hostile on the 
coast; Wacos and Tauwankanies were equally so 
in the interior, and committed constant depreda- 
tions. Parties of Takaways, Lipans, Baedies, 
etc., were intermingled with the settlers ; they were 
beggarly and insolent, and only restrained the 
first two years by presents, forbearance, and pol- 
icy — there was not force sufficient to awe them. 

This little band, like Arnold Winkleried, were 
ready to offer their breasts for every adverse 
lance. "With their shining axes they cleared the 
forests, cultivated the fields with their rifles on 
their backs, filled the echoes of the grand old 
woods with their lusty songs of cheer, rode to 
the battle with the grim determination of Crom- 
well's " Ironsides,' ' and planted the woodbine and 
honeysuckle around the rude cabin doors with the 
tender grace of women. They were sui generis, 
and stamped like a die the character of Texans 
forever. 

However, much in the ambition of their youth- 



STEPHEN F. AUSTIN 73 

ful hearts they vie with each other — for no one 
will deny that these "Caesars were ambitious'' — 
they gracefully recognized the preeminent serv- 
ices of Austin, and always accorded him the palm 
of honor and gratitude, as the one who had blessed 
them by "labors, cares, and counsels for their 
good," and whose death shocked and oppressed. 

The land which loved him so 
That none could love him best. 

— Mrs. Maude Fuller Young. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Repeat the opening stanza. 

2. Do you understand how it applies to Austin? 

3. Where and when was Austin born ? 

4. When and where did he die ? Where is he buried ? 

5. Name three traits of his character. 

6. Where did he attend school? 

7. What wrong impression have many persons of this 

man? 

8. What is a patriot? 

9. Find out about Hamilton, Washington, Patrick 

Henry, William of Orange. 

10. Give the names of some Indian tribes in Texas in 

Austin's time. Can you name some that are 
not mentioned in this selection? 

11. Tell Austin's plan of planting a colony in Texas. 

12. What right had he to do it? Can you find out 

what trouble arose over these colonies later? 

13. Mention some of the privations of these early col- 

onists. 



THE SAN ANTONIO EIVER 




"THE BEAUTIFUL SHIMMERING WATER" 

A most fairy-like thing, winding in, winding out, 

Over-shadowed by leaflets that quiver, 
On the breezes which toss the clear wavelets about, 

Flows the sweet San Antonio River. 
Under bridges, by churches, by ruins most grand, 

With its numerous gladsome surprises, 
In its grandeur of landscape on every hand, 

From the beautiful spring where it rises. 



I sat down near the source, on one glorious day, 
When the sweet mocking birds, a great number, 

Were each piping forth its melodious lay, 
And I think that I dropped into slumber, — 

74 



THE SAN ANTONIO RIVER 75 

For up from the foxgloves of every hue, 
From all points of those emerald bowers, 

Groups of fairies came forth to my wondering 
view, 
Quite as numberless as the sweet flowers. 

One ran down to the spring with a wee larkspur 
cup, 

(Oh, has nature a tinier daughter!) 
And the pure little goblet she brimful filled up, 

With the beautiful shimmering water. 
Then I said, " Fairy Queen, can you tell me, I 
pray, 

From whence comes this most glorious river V 
In a silvery voice replied the fairy fay: 

"Yes, a woman's bright tear was the giver! 

"In the ages agone lived a fairy queen, 

And this sky over us was the cover, 
And her carpet, like this, was a flowery sheen, 

But her heart was possessed by a lover — 
One as fickle as man in all ages has been, 

When he finds a woman will love him, 
And who turned from her arms yet another to win, 

Ever longing for what was above him. 

"For the god of the fays had a daughter as fair 
And as pure as the light of the morning 

And he fell in love with her beautiful hair, 
Never heeding our time-honored warning. 



76 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

' Should the child of a god ever mate with a fay, 
Both are banished in the darkness forever.' 

But the goddess and he thought to flee far away, 
To some land where no more they would sever. 

"It was here that the lovers were plighting their 
troth, 
On this spot never pressed by a mortal; 
But that instant the god sent his vengeance on 
both, 
And direct from his heavenly portal, 
A thunderbolt fell on the love plighted pair, 

The green earth quickly rendering asunder, 
And the fay and the goddess with the beautiful 
hair, 
In the ruins were here buried under. 

"A great crevice was all that was left to the view, 

This was dark and unsightly and yawning, 
Till the queen of the fairies in love ever true, 

Stole alone to the brink at one dawning, 
And, low kneeling beside, dropped a pitying tear, 

Which has blessed this sweet gale through the 
giver, 
For the tear grew at once to this spring, sweet 
and clear, 

And the spring to the beautiful river. 

"And e'er since that morning it went dancing 
away, 
Woman's pitying tears have been flowing!'' 



THE SAN ANTONIO RIVER 77 

I awoke — out of sight went the strange little fay, 
But to where — it was not to my knowing. 

Yet, as then, on its way, winding in, winding out, 
Overshadowed by leaflets that quiver, 

In the breezes that toss its clear wavelets about, 
Flows the sweet San Antonio Eiver. 

— Mrs. Bella French Swisher, 

QUESTIONS 

1. Where is the San Antonio River? How does it 

rise ? 

2. What are wavelets? Does a small river have wave- 

lets? 

3. What birds are named in the poem? What flowers? 

4. Write the fairy's story in your own words. 

5. AVhat are fays? What are fairies? 

6. What was the time-honored warning? 

7. What lesson does it teach to human people? 

8. What about the poem do you like ; story, melody, 

imagery, description ? 

9. If you were by the side of the river, do yon think 

that you could see what the poet saw? How 
did she see it? 

10. How much of the story do you think is true? 

11. How many stanzas? How many lines to the 

stanza? Which of these end with the same 
sound? What do you call this similar sound? 



THE STORY OF WARREN LIONS 

Late in 1837, LaGrange on the Colorado was 
an outpost, Bastrop being the only settlement 
above. Northeast, and west to the Guadalupe, 
the country was still an unbroken wilderness. 
Southwest from LaGrange some sixteen miles and 
near the present line of the Sunset railway, lived 
the Lions family — early emigrants to Austin's 
colony from New York State — consisting of fa- 
ther, mother, a married daughter (Mrs. Wm. B. 
Bridges), and four sons: Seymour, George, De- 
Witt, and Warren, a boy thirteen years old. 
Some twenty miles further to the southwest, on 
the same road from LaGrange to Texana and Vic- 
toria and in the vicinity of the present town of 
Hallettsville, there was a number of settlers near 
the Lavaca, among them the names of Hallett Fo- 
ley, Zumwalt, Heath, Kent and Jesse Robinson — 
comrades in arms and adventure of Captain 
Henry S. Brown in 1828-9. 

In the summer of this year a raiding party of 
about thirty Comanches were discovered in the vi- 
cinity, descending from the mountain on their 
usual route toward Victoria, their trail being some 
fifteen miles west of the Lavaca settlement. The 
alarm spread, and a party of twelve or fifteen 

78 



THE STORY OF WARREN LIONS 79 

was hastily made up without any leader, who 
struck and followed the Indians' trail. In a very 
few miles, on the waters of Little Brushy, per- 
haps twenty miles southwest of Hallettsville and 
in an open forest, they suddenly came upon the 
savages, who had camped, " staking out" some 
of their horses and "hobbling" others. It was 
raining at the time, and hence their approach was 
undiscovered till they charged with a view of 
stampeding the Indians' horses. With their 
bowie knives some of the party cut the ropes by 
which some of the horses were staked, while others 
sought to secure the hobbled animals. But the 
Indians outnumbering their assailants two to 
one, soon rallied and charged furiously to recover 
their horses. Against odds and in the absence of 
a leader, confusion ensued. Two or three In- 
dians were wounded and Stiffier killed. The 
whites effected a retreat with a few of the horses, 
but the Indians followed them, and at Zumwalt's 
recaptured a portion of the animals during the 
night. 

While admittedly suffering defeat, the settlers 
at least prevented an attack on Victoria. But the 
Indians, somewhat emboldened, sought another 
field for their operations. Deflecting to the north- 
east and rapidly covering the intervening distance 
of about forty miles, they suddenly appeared just 
after daylight at the Lions place. Mr. Lions and 
his son Warren had just arisen and entered the 



80 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

cowpen to milk, while other members of the fam- 
ily were yet in bed. In a moment they killed and 
scalped the father, made captive the son, and gath- 
ering up a number of horses, belonging to Mr. 
Lions, left for their mountain fastnesses. 

Ten long years rolled by, and beyond vague, 
unreliable rumors, no tidings were received of the 
lost boy. Kelatives and friends gave him up and 
mourned him as one forever lost to civilization, 
perhaps dead, — all but the hoping and praying 
mother. She dreamed dreams and had visions of 
her darling baby child, and ever believed he would 
come back to her — believing that Providence in 
some way would restore her treasure. 

In 1847, pending the Mexican War, a party of 
Comanches appeared at San Antonio on a trading 
expedition. It became known that among them 
was a young warrior, believed to be an American. 
Two neighbors of Mrs. Lions happened to be in 
San Antonio and, hearing of this rumor, deter- 
mined to investigate the matter. In the young 
warrior of twenty-three, they found such a re- 
semblance to the Lions brothers as to convince 
them that he was Warren Lions. An interview 
through an interpreter soon removed all doubt. 
They resolved, if possible, to take him home, but 
this required several days and much diplomacy. 
Warren well remembered his mother but believed 
she was dead. He had two young wives and did 
not wish to leave them. Numerous presents were 



THE STORY OF WARREN LIONS 81 

made to him, but still lie remained obdurate till 
about the third day, when his consent was won 
by a present of two very fine red blankets — one 
for each wife, with which he adorned them with 
the pride of a true knight. He, however, only 
promised to visit his mother, and then return to 
his wives and his tribe. With that understand- 
ing he accompanied the gentlemen home, in the 
full garb of a wild Indian. 

The Lions home stood just as he had left it, a 
double log house, on a prairie ridge, and visible 
from the west for two or three miles. Warren 
recognized it. When about two hundred yards 
from the house, the unsuspecting old mother 
stepped out in the yard in plain view of the ap- 
proaching party. Her long hair, originally of 
flaxen color, had only assumed a whiter hue. 
Warren instantly recognized her and dashed for- 
ward, uttering the wild man's "wail of joy." 
Abruptly halting and dismounting, he sprang into 
the yard, weeping and gyrating in a manner so 
weird as to unnerve the dear old mother, till the 
two neighbors shrieked to her, "It is Warren, your 
lost boy! " Then she shouted praise to God and 
sought to encircle Warren in her arms, while he 
expressed his delight in Indian style, involving 
dancing, gesticulations, and those guttural indica- 
tions of joy peculiar to the w T ild tribes. 

Warren was resolved to fulfill his promise and 
return to his wives, but the whole country round 



82 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

joined in schemes to detain him, but to no avail 
till his brother, DeWitt, induced him to accompany 
him, and join a company of rangers in Southwest 
Texas to fight the Mexicans. To this he assented, 
and this service gradually weaned him from his 
Indian habits, and reconciled him to civilization, 
ending in his marriage and domestic life ; not, how- 
ever, till he had participated in several engage- 
ments with the Indians, in which, like his brothers, 
he developed the characteristics of a courageous 
soldier. — James T. DeShields. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Trace the course of the Colorado River on the map. 

2. Locate LaGrange, Bastrop. 

3. Trace the road from LaGrange to Victoria. 

4. Locate Hallettsville, Lavaca. 

5. How long ago was this story ? Show how Texas has 

changed in this period. 

6. What is meant by staking out ? Hobbling ? Bowie 

knives ? Stampeding ? Gyrating ? 

7. Give the story of Warren Lions in your own words. 

Why did he wish to wear his Indian garb when 
he went to his mother's house? 

8. How is it that he recognized his mother and she did 

not recognize him? 

9. Tell something of the Comanche Indians. 

10. What connection have the Mexicans with the story ? 

11. Notice the length of the sentences; the number of 

sentences in each paragraph. What is a para- 
graph ? 



GAY SPKING 

(A tribute to little six-year-old Florence Duval) 

Gay Spring, with her 
beautiful flowers, 
Is robing the val- 
leys and hills; 

Sweet music is heard 
in the bowers, 
And laughter i s 
sent from the 
rills, 

Oh, let me, while kin- 
dled by these, 
The feelings o f 
childhood recall, 

And frame a soft son- 
net to please 




MIRABEAU LAMAR 



The fair little Florence Duval. 



The rose may be proud of its red, 
The lily be proud of its white, 

And the sweet-scented jessamines shed 
Their treasures of fragrant delight; 

Yet brighter and sweeter than these, 
And far more enchanting than all, 

83 



84 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Is the beautiful pink of Bellemont 
The fair little Florence Duval. 

Her locks are as white as the lint, 

Her eyes are as blue as the sky; 
Her cheeks have a magical tint — 

A rainbow which never should die. 
Oh, surely there's no living thing 

That dwelleth in cottage or hall, 
Can vie with the Peri I sing — 

The fair little Florence Duval. 

But why is she resting from her play? 

And why is that tear in her eye? — 
Alas ! a bright bird on the spray 

Is pouring his carols hard by ; 
Her spirit is drinking the song, 

She weeps at the notes as they fall; 
For genius and feeling belong 

To fair little Florence Duval. 

Oh, long may the Peri bloom on, 

Still ever in gladness and love, 
And blend with her genius for song, 

The feelings that iight us above. 
That life may be lengthened and blest 

And sorrows may never enthrall 
Must still be the prayer of each breast 

For fair little Florence Duval. 

— Mirabeau Lamar. 



GAY SPRING 85 

QUESTIONS 

1. Why should a poem to a little girl be given this 

title? 

2. What is a "soft" sonnet? 

3. What is meant by "the beautiful pink of Belle- 

mont"? 

4. She is compared to what flowers? 

5. What is said of her hair ? Her eyes ? Her cheeks ? 

6. What is meant by "a Peri"? In what sense might 

Florence be called a Peri? 

7. Why was the tear in her eye ? 

8. What wish did the poet express for her? What do 

you know of her later life? 

9. What in this poem do you like best: the picture,^ 

the music of the line, or the sentiment of affec- 
tion? 



THE DAUGHTER OF MENDOZA 

Oh, lend to me, sweet nightingale, 

Your music by the fountains ! 
And lend to me your cadences, 

Oh, river of the mountains ! 
That I may sing my gay brunette, 

A diamond spark in coral set, 
Gem for a princess' coronet — 

The daughter of Mendoza. 

How brilliant is the morning star ! 

The evening star how tender ! 
The light of both is in her eyes, 

Their softness and their splendor, 
But for the lash that shades their liglit- 

They are too dazzling for the sight ; 
And when she shuts them all is night — 

The daughter of Mendoza. 

Oh, ever bright and beauteous one, 

Bewildering and beguiling, 
The lute is in thy silvery tones, 

The rainbow in thy smiling. 
And thine is, too, o'er hill and dell, 

The bounding of the young gazelle, 
The arrow's flight and ocean's swell — 

Sweet daughter of Mendoza. 

86 



THE DAUGHTER OF MENDOZA 87 

What though, perchance, we meet no more? 

What though, too soon we sever? 
Thy form will float like emerald light 

Before my vision ever. 
But who can see and then forget 

The glories of my gay brunette? 
Thou art too bright a star to set — 

Sweet daughter of Mendoza! 

— Mirabeau Lamar. 

QUESTIONS 

1. This is one of the most widely known poems of early 

Texas literature. To what do you think its pop- 
ularity is due? 

2. Is "Mendoza" the name of a person, a river, or a 

country? Give reasons for thinking as you do. 

3. What are cadences? What is a princess' coronet? 

What effect do such illustrations have on the 
reader ? 

4. Do yon like this poem better than "Gay Spring"? 

Why? 

5. To what different things is the young lady com- 

pared ? 

6. Write a description of her. 

7. What lines are paired off by rhyme ? 



A PRAIRIE SUNSET 

You have doubtless often read of a sunset at 
sea, but I presume you have never read of a sun- 
set on the prairie. 

Splendid as is the former, it does not eclipse 
the latter. When far away from home and kin- 
dred, upon the bosom of the mig'hty deep, I have 
sat and watched the orb of day as he slowly sank 
into his ocean bed and thought the world could not 
afford another sight as beautiful. But when upon 
the wide prairie night approaches the beholder, 
and the dazzling, golden rays of the sun begin 
to redden; and the mighty day-god lays aside his 
piercing appearance and permits the eye of man 
to gaze upon him with impunity, then, indeed, the 
soul is filled with wonder at the sublimity of the 
scene. The gorgeous clouds form a rosy pathway 
for him to tread, as he walks downward into his 
bed of flowers and verdure. Around him float 
airy, purple clouds, while beneath, are others 
tinged with the riches of vermilion. 

As he sinks slowly down, he resembles a huge 
ball of fire falling amidst the grass of the prairie. 
When at length the sun is hid for the night, the 
fleecy clouds float for a few moments beneath the 
azure sky, and then disappear. 

88 



A PRAIRIE SUNSET 80 

Then the bright silver stars come peeping forth, 
one after another, gladdening the eye with their 
.twinkling light. Then comes up the full, round 
moon, attended by myriads more of bright stars, 
into the firmament already studded with these 
gems. Soon the light is sufficiently bright to en- 
able the student to continue his labors by the 
moon's rays. He who is an admirer of the beau- 
ties of nature, cannot look upon a scene like this 
unmoved. 

The wide prairie, which lies spread out on every 
side, is here and there relieved by a clump of 
trees, which serve to render the scene enchanting. 
Poets have often sung of the beauty of Italian 
skies, but those who have seen them both, pro- 
nounce ours equally beautiful. It does not appear 
to me to be possible that there can be a land more 
lovely than Texas. 

— W. B. DeWees, 

In Letters from Texas. 

QUESTIONS 

• 

1. In what is the prairie and the sea alike? In what, 

different ? 

2. In a description what advantages would the prairie 

give over the sea? 

3. What is meant by "the mighty day-god"? What 

by "vermilion"? 

4. Write your own description of a prairie sunset. 



SABINE BOAT SONG 

The moon above, like a maiden in love, 
Looks timidly down at her face in the stream, 
While together we two in our open canoe 
Glide away from the shore, in a dream, in a dream, 
Glide away from the shore in a dream. 

With the moon overhead and the stars overhead 
And the moon and the stars in the mirroring 

stream, 
Oh, love, we will float in our Indian boat, 
Away from the world in a dream, in a dream, 
Away from the world in a dream. 

Oh, hark to the song as we hurry along, 

The song from the cypress that leans to the 

stream ; 
'Tis the same magic bird that the Indians heard, 
And called it the bird of a dream, of a dream, 
And called it the bird of a dream. 

Oh, love, it is here, in the Southland dear, 
That the waters are sweetest in life's deep stream; 
It is here, that we, 'neath the orange tree, 
Will make it come true, our dream, our dream, 
Will make it come true, — our dream. 

— Ernest Powell. 

90 



SABINE BOAT SONG 91 

QUESTIONS 

1. Where does Mr. Powell live? 

2. What are his favorite subjects? 

3. To what is the moon compared? Why? 

4. Who are in the boat? Where are they going? 

5. Describe some of the things about them. 

6. Why does the poet repeat certain expressions? 

7. What is it that he calls the "bird of a dream"? 

8. Tell something of an "Indian boat." 

9. How many lines in each stanza? 

10. Where do you think this scene is to be found ? Why 

do you think so? 

11. Tell the story in prose. 

12. Memorize the poem. 



OUR NAMELESS NATION 




MRS. M. M. JOUVENAT 



I know a land whose 
story 
Of sacrifice and 
pain, 
Dwells in pathetic 
glory 
Like some remem- 
bered strain, 
Whose notes, forever 
flying, 
Repeat their sacred 
themes 
In sighing echoes, dy- 
ing, 
And fading into 
dreams. 



Oh, loved and vanished nation, 

Nameless and lost for aye ; 
With loving iteration, 

With carven stone and bay, 
With monumental splendor, 

Their memory to bless, 
Though vain our hope to render 

The fulgor of success. 

92 



OUR NAMELESS NATION 93 

Long shall the deathless story 

Be told of the young and brave 
Who sleep in tragic glory 

In many a nameless grave ; 
And long shall this land be cherished 

In her children's loving hearts — 
Though her boundaries have perished 

From human maps and charts. 

For the blood that flowed like a river 

And sank in the earth away 
Is part of her sod forever 

And throbs in our veins today. 
And long as the sky's soft arches 

Are panoplied with gold, 
The thrill of those gallant marches, 

The deeds of those heroes bold — 

Shall dwell in our hearts' devotion 

And grow as the leaves unfold 
Till our sunny land by the ocean 

Shall stand mid the nations old ; 
And the fame of that nameless nation 

On history's* page shall shine 
As our heroes' grand oblation 

In our hearts have found a shrine. 

— Mrs. M. M. Jouvenat. 



94 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

QUESTIONS 

1. What land is referred to in the first stanza? 

2. What is meant by "pathetic glory"? "Carven 

stone"? "Bay"? "Fulgor"? 

3. What heroes are referred to in the fourth stanza? 

4. Write a composition on the stories of these heroes. 

5. Note the rhyme in this poem. 

6. Could you omit a stanza and still have the senti- 

ment complete? 

7. How many lines in each stanza? 

8. How many syllables in each line? 



THE WHISTLE OF THE "BOB WHITE 



> > 



When I was a little boy I tried through many 
summers to imitate the whistle of the "Bob 
White,'' to no avail. I have known several fel- 
lows in my life who could give a very fair imita- 
tion of the bird, but it doesn't make a fellow sit 
up and take notice to hear the whistle when he 
is looking for it. The time when it sounds good 
and puts your very soul on the wide-a-wake, is 
when you are walking along the road just before 
sundown, meditating upon the profound problems 
of life. Everything is still, night is drawing 
near. All at once, the "Bob White," sitting on 
the old rail fence, just the other side of a wild 
grape-vine from you, will whistle in his clear notes 
and set your heart throbbing and bring back a 
string of memories that had slept for years. 

To most people the whistle of the "Bob White" 
is simply a whistle and always sounds the same; 
but in point of fact, the "Bob White" whistles 
with his feelings, with his soul, just as men and 
women sing. Sometimes his whistle is the blithe, 
hopeful song of early morning, when a glorious 
day is before us, and again it is the tender sigh of 
a tired mother, after a day of care and the little 
troubles of life. 

95 



96 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

A few days ago, I was out on a country road 
just before sunset. I was walking along, discuss- 
ing in my mind the opinions of learned men upon 
certain technical and scientific things. The pic- 
ture I was contemplating was dull and uninterest- 
ing, but of a sudden a ' ' Bob White ' ' whistled on a 
fence near me, and his mate answered in plaintive 
tone from out in the wheat field, as if she were 
telling her lord that it was late and time for him 
to come home and help her cuddle her little ones to 
sleep. 

Immediately the dull prospect passed away, and 
before my mental vision opened a grand picture as 
large as memory itself. I saw great fields of wav- 
ing, golden grain. Here was a field of shocks 
where the wheat had been cut. There was a large 
block of gold with a margin of brown stubble and 
scattered bundles around it where the harvesters 
had been at work. Two little boys were walking 
along the ' ' turnin' row, ' ' each carrying a tin bucket 
on his arm, going toward the old red farmhouse, 
where they could hear the cows lowing and the lit- 
tle calves plaintively bleating a request for their 
belated evening meal. The peace of God's own 
love rests over the scene, and a "Bob White," sit- 
ting on the old orchard fence, whistles to his mate 
in tender tones as if reassuring her that it will not 
rain tonight, because the sun is peeping like a 
bright and fiery eye from beneath the threatening 
cloud in the west, and "Bob White" seems saying 



THE WHISTLE OF THE "BOB WHITE" 97 

to his mate, as we humble country folks were wont 
to say, "It won't rain tonight, because the sun is 
settin' clear." 

As the two little lads walked along the dusty 
way, the smaller one stopped and began to cry. 
His brother set down his bucket, and examining 
into the trouble, found that he had stepped on a 
"bull nettle" that had been lying in the sun and 
had become dry and hard. He picked the "stick- 
ers" out of the little fellow's foot the best he could, 
and the two little lads took up their buckets and 
started homeward, leaving two round rings in the 
dust of the "turnin' row" where the buckets had 
been and a lot of barefoot tracks around them. 
As they went on their way the little boy lagged be- 
hind and limped on account of the nettles that his 
brother couldn't find in his dirty brown foot. 
They came to the orchard fence, and when the 
larger one had peered into the "rag-weeds" for 
possible snakes, climbed over the old rail fence 
and disappeared among the spreading apple trees. 

When my picture boys had disappeared, I stood 
there in the road, pondering the last glimpse of the 
little boy's tear-stained face, and saying to myself, 
"Where have I seen that picture before? Where 
was it!" 

The bird whistled again, and behold the picture 
came again. The little boys had disappeared in 
the orchard, and as I stood by the roadside in the 
gloaming I heard footsteps, and, looking up, saw 



98 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

the hale old farmer with his shoulders slightly 
bent and iron-grey hair, and one of the "harvest 
hands" walking toward the house and discussing 
the probable yield of a certain block of grain, each 
carrying a water jug in his hand. As they drew 
near me the farmer said: "I thought I saw the 
boys come along the road a little while ago." 

"Yas, sir," said a negro boy, who was walking 
along behind with a sickle on his shoulder, "dey 
did come along hyar, I seed 'em when dey clomb de 
fence right dar by dat little ellum bush. Spec' dey 
took a nigh cut froo de orchum 'count er de big 
snake track 'tween hyar an' de 'turnin' row,' " 
and the negro's white teeth and eyeballs glowed 
in the twilight. 

Again the scene changed, and the farmer and his 
men passed on toward the barn, but still I stood 
and wondered where I had seen those things be- 
fore. 

Hearing heavy footfalls, I looked again and be- 
held two great draught horses coming down the 
road. The chains were rattling and the horses 
were taking occasional bites from bunches of grain 
that grew by the way. Upon one of the animals a 
youth was riding. He appeared to be in deep 
study, and was saying to himself, "I am not afraid 
to work. I don't mind the dirt and the grease 
about the reaper. I don't flinch like a girl when 
the nettles stick me in binding the grain with my 
hands, but I just don't want to be a farmer. 



•ME WHISTLE OF THE "BOB WHITE" 99 

Something tells me that there is other work for me 
to do." Thus he soliloquized as he passed me and 
followed the others toward the farmhouse in the 
twilight. 

Then I knew, ah ! yes, I knew where I had seen 
that picture before, and as I pursued my way on in 
the early twilight, I pondered it. Every man in 
the world can't be a farmer, but if every man in 
our great nation could hear the "Bob White" 
whistle, and could see the harvest fields at sun- 
set; if we all could have the thrilling note of that 
bird to awaken our hearts until we saw the tear- 
stained faces of our little brothers, while picking 
the nettles from their feet; saw the bended form 
of father as he wended homeward after a dav of 
toil for his loved ones; saw the faithful hired 
man and the grinning, single-minded negro boy 
that followed him homeward as the shadows 
fell ; saw brother pass in the gloaming, as he rode 
old Charley to the lot. If all, everyone, the 
banker in his counting-house, the merchant in his 
store, the statesman in his councils, the lawyer at 
the bar and the preacher in the pulpit, could see 
those scenes again and hear "The Whistle of the 
Bob White," even once a year, the world would 
be far better. There would be more patriots and 
fewer politicians; more honesty and less practice 
for lawyers; more smiles and laughter and less 
sorrow; more love and tenderness and less hate 
and malice. 



100 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

If I had the promise of only one prayer that 
might be answered, it should be, "Oh, God, show 
the men of our nation the harvest fields at sunset, 
and let them hear 'The Whistle of the Bob White' ; 
so the curtain of time will roll back and permit 
them to see sweet scenes that will soften their 
hearts and make their souls fallow ground for re- 
ceiving seeds of good!" 

— Jesse Edward Gkinstead. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is referred to as "Bob White"? 

2. What is the best time to listen to him? Why? 

3. Why is it so difficult to imitate the bird? 

4. How does the writer interpret his whistle? 

5. In the fourth paragraph, the writer goes back to 

his own childhood. Write his story in your own 
words. 

6. Why would the world be better if every man could 

listen to the whistle of "Bob White' at least 
once a year? 

7. What do you think about it? Write your answer. 



THE BELLS OF BOSCASTLE 

The sky is vanished from the world, 
Nor even a shadow lingers more, 
But through the dark upon the Avind 
I hear the winds upon the shore. 

It was four hundred years agone, 
The bay, it mirrored every star, 
And 'mid the stars the captain saw 
The lights upon the harbor bar. 

The captain smote his brawny chest, 

" 'Tis I that brought," quoth he, 

' 'The bells from Fraunce, nor asked for help 

Christi's moder dear, Mari." 

The captain glared, the seamen stared, 
The wind is on the waste, 
The stars are dimmer one by one, 
The pilot crosseth him in haste. 

The fierce wind bringeth thicker night, 

The black waves beat against the sky, 

Ye cannot see the signal lights, 

Ye cannot hear the sailors cry. 

101 



102 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

The bells of Fraunce upon the prow 
Will never in the belfry hang-, 
And now they jangle as they toss 
A mad, wild clang. 

Upon the sands the seamen's bones 
'Mid the white corals lie, 
And in their midst the bells of Fraunce 
Still ring them ceaselessly. 

The lithe sea-maidens circle round, 
And dance within their wake, 
And strange sea-things abide to hear 
The melodies they make. 

And thus for sinful souls they pray 
Christi's moder clear, Mari, 
And sailors hear them far and near 
Go ringing in the sea. 

— Stark Young. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Who is the author ? Where does he teach ? Name 

some of the books that he has written. 

2. Give the story in your own words. 

3. Where is Boscastle? Why are the bells there? 

4. What is your impression of the captain? 

5. Why did the pilot cross himself in haste ? 

6. What became of the seamen? Of the captain? 

7. Did he deserve his fate? Why? 



THE BELLS OF BOSCASTLE 103 

8. Who are the "sea-maidens," and what are they rep- 

resented as doing? 

9. Can you think of some other "strange sea-things"? 

10. How is this poem different from the "Sabine Boat 

Song"? 

11. Which do you like better? Can you tell why? 

12. How many lines in each stanza? 

13. Why does the author use words like Fraunce, 

Christi, moder? 

14. When is this incident represented as occurring? 

What time of day ? 

15. Do you believe this to be a true story ? Why ? 



A MOTHER'S SONG 

Hast thou not seen the quiet blue 
That bends from out the quiet skies, 
And watcheth thee the long day through ? 
It is thy mother's eyes. 

Hast thou not seen the tender sun 
That lights the heaven there above, 
And sends the stars when day is done? 
It is thy mother's love. 

Hast thou not heard each leaf and tree 
Forget the daytime 's heat and noise, 
While sleep comes stealing over thee? 
It is thy mother's voice. 

— 'Stark Young. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Imagine the mother talking to the little child. 

2. What is said of the mother's eyes? 

3. What does the mother's love do? 

4. What is the effect of the mother's voice? 

5. What in return should the child do for the mother ? 

Do you? 



104 



THE COUNCIL HOUSE FIGHT 

On Tuesday, March 19, 1840, sixty-five Coman- 
ches came into the town of San Antonio to make 
a treaty. They brought with them, and reluc- 
tantly gave up, Matilda Lockhart, whom they had 
captured with her younger sister, in December, 
1838, after killing two others of the family. The 
Indian chiefs and men proceeded to the court- 
house where they met the city and military au- 
thorities. Captain Tom Howard's company was 
the first in the courthouse yard. The Indian 
women and boys came in there, too, and remained 
during the pow-wow. The young Indians amused 
themselves shooting at pieces of money put up by 
some of the Americans. 

I went over to Mrs. Higginbotham's, whose 
place adjoined the courthouse yard, and we 
watched the young savages through the picket 
fence. 

This was the third time the Indians had come 
for a talk, pretending to seek peace and trying to 
get ransom money for their American and Mex- 
ican captives. Their present proposition was 
that they should be paid an enormous price for 
Matilda Lockhart and a Mexican they had just 

105 



106 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

given up, and that traders be sent with paint, 
powder, flannel, blankets, and such other articles 
as they should name, to ransom the other captives. 
This course had been adopted once before, and 
when the traders reached the Indian camp, the 
small-pox broke out amongst them. They killed 
the traders, saying that they had introduced the 
disease to kill off the Indians. After the slaugh- 
ter they had retained both the captives and the 
goods. 

Now, the Americans answered, "We will keep 
four or five of your chiefs, and the others of you 
shall go to your nation and bring all the captives 
here; then we will pay all you ask for them. 
Meanwhile, the chiefs that w T e hold we will treat as 
brothers, and not one hair of vour heads shall be 
injured. This we have determined upon, and if 
you resist our soldiers shall shoot you down." 

The Comanches instantly, and as one man, 
raised a terrific war whoop, drew their bows and 
arrows, and commenced firing with deadly effect, 
at the same time trying to break out of the coun- 
cil hall. 

The order, "Fire!" was given by Captain How- 
ard, and the soldiers fired into the midst of the 
crowd. The first volley killed several Indians 
and two of our own people. Soon all rushed out 
into the public square, the civilians to procure 
arms, the Indians to escape, and the soldiers in 
close pursuit. 



THE COUNCIL HOUSE FIGHT 107 

The Indians generally struck out for the river. 
Soldiers and citizens pursued and overtook them 
at all points. Some were shot in the river and 
some in the streets. Several hand-to-hand en- 
counters took place, and some Indians took refuge 
in stone houses and closed the doors. 

When the deafening war whoop sounded in the 
court room, it was so loud and shrill, so sudden 
and inexpressibly horrible, that we women, look- 
ing through the fence cracks, for a moment could 
not understand its meaning. The Indian boys, 
however, recognized its meaning and turning their 
arrows upon Judge Robinson and other gentlemen 
standing near by, slew the judge on the spot. 

We fled precipitately, Mrs. Higginbotham into 
her house and I across the street to my Commerce 
Street door. Two Indians rushed by me on Com- 
merce Street, and another reached my door and 
turned to push it just as I slammed it to and beat 
down the heavy bar. 

I rushed into the house and in the north room 
found my husband and my brother Andrew sit- 
ting calmly at a table inspecting some plats of 
surveys. They had heard nothing; I soon gave 
them the alarm, and hurried by to look after my 
boys. Mr. Maverick and Andrew seized their 
arms. Mr. Maverick rushed into the street and 
Andrew into the back yard where I was, now 
shouting at the top of my voice, "Here are In- 
dians! Here are Indians !" 



108 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Three Indians had gotten in through the gate on 
Soledad Street and were making toward the river. 
One had stopped near Jinny Anderson, our cook, 
who stood bravely in front of the children — mine 
and hers. She held a great stone in her hands, 
lifted above her head, and I heard her cry out 
to the Indian, "G'way from heah, or I'll mash 
your head with this rock!" The Indian seemed 
regretful that he hadn't time to dispatch Jinny 
and her brood ; but his time was short, and, paus- 
ing but a moment, he turned and rushed down 
the bank, jumped into the river, and struck out for 
the opposite shore. 

As the Indian hurried down the bank my brother 
ran out in answer to my calls. While the Indian 
was swimming, Andrew drew his unerring bead 
on him. Another Indian was climbing the oppo- 
site bank and was about to escape, but Andrew 
brought him down also. Then Andrew rushed up 
Soledad Street, looking for more Indians. Not 
one of the sixty-five Indians escaped. Thirty- 
three were killed and thirty-two taken prisoners. 

— Mrs. Sam Maverick. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What was the Council House? Where was it lo- 

cated? Describe it. 

2. Find out what you can about the Indian tribes of 

Texas. 

3. What was the disposition of the Comanches ? 



THE COUNCIL HOUSE FIGHT 109 

4. Why were the Indians at the Council House at this 

particular time? 

5. What started the trouble in the Council House? 

Who was to blame for it? 

6. Give an account of the battle. What part did the 

author have in it? 

7. Describe the Indian boys. 

8. Tell of the cook, Jinny Anderson. 

9. What was the result of the fight ? 

10. What is meant by ' ' drawing a bead ' ' ? 

11. Have you ever been to San Antonio? Has it 

changed much from what it was in the early 
days? What famous building is there? 

12. What interests you most in this story — the people, 

or what they did? 




SPANISH MOSS 



110 



SPANISH MOSS 

The forest leaves are turning red and falling, 

Leaving the old trees bare ; 
And through the boughs the autumn winds are 
sighing ; 

Winter is drawing near. 



Yet, twining around, the branches nude en 
wrapping, 

The gray moss closer clings, 
Faithful and true in winter as in summer, 

Its love and friendship springs. 

Oh, good gray moss-, may I ever have near me, 

As thou so true a friend, 
Amid life 's storms, as when 'tis calm — as faithful, 

As constant to the end. 



And when life's weary pilgrimage is ended, 

My tomb with flowers wreathe, 
As thou, the old tree loving, mournful, sighing, 

Enclasps it still in death ! 

— Fkiench Simpson. 
ill 



112 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

QUESTIONS 

1. Why does the poet call the old gray moss good? 

2. What is Spanish moss? 

3. Why should he liken it to a friend? 

4. What does he desire to be done at his death? 

5. Try writing this poem in prose form. Do you gain 

or lose by the change ? 



A CHILD'S GAME 

Nor sleep, nor journey, nor affray, 

Can justly image death to me; 
I am a little child, and Death 

The one who lets you go and see. 

All children in a darkened room; 

And Death stands smiling at the door. 
His finger on his lips, and says 

So quietly, "Now, one child more." 

I have so longed and longed to know 
What lovely things the children find 

When they have gone beyond the door ; 
But not a child that's left behind, 

Has ever been; for when they go, 

He will not ever let them back ; 
And when he beckons them and we 

Stand tiptoe, watching for the crack, 

Our strange, sweet playmate steps between 

And will not let us see at all; 
He smiles at our expectancy 

With "You may come, too, when I call." 

113 



114 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

And oh, within the darkened room 
I have so longed and longed to know 

Just what it is they see and learn — 
The other children, when they go ! 

Do you suppose that I shall feel 

Afraid, to see him look at me 
At last, and beckon with his hand, 

And smile, "Now, you may go and see"? 
— Mrs. Karle Wilson Baker. 

QUESTIONS 

1. The author represents our departure from this 

world as a game where Death opens the door and 
bids us go. Notice how attractive she makes 
that final scene. 

2. Write out the game as she gives it. 

3. Why is it that we cannot see beyond the door, or 

through the crack? 

4. What do you think the children do after they have 

passed through the door? 

5. The door is the entrance to what place? 

6. What question is asked in the last stanza? 



A PIONEER SCHOOL 

In the fall of 1828 a company of about sixty 
men, women and children left New York for Texas. 
In this number was a young* school teacher by the 
name of T. J. Pilgrim. They traveled in wagons 
and by boat until they reached New Orleans. 
From that place they crossed over to Matagorda, 
and from there to their destination, San Felipe 
de Austin. There Mr. Pilgrim met the great 
empresario, Stephen F. Austin. His narrative 
thus continues: 

"I soon engaged in teaching, and succeed- 
ing in a short time in raising a school of about 
forty scholars, mostly boys, with expressive and 
intelligent countenances who were easily con- 
trolled, and some of whom gave indications of fu- 
ture greatness and usefulness. Contemplating in 
imagination what Texas, from its great natural 
advantages, must soon become, I felt the necessity 
of moral and religious, as well as intellectual cul- 
ture, and resolved to make an effort to found a 
Sunday school. 

"A lecture was delivered each Sunday morning, 
intended for both old and young. To hear these 
lectures, people came from the distance of ten 
miles. Let us for a moment contemplate this Sun- 
day school. In a black-jack and post-oak grove 

115 



116 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

near the centre of the town is a rude log cabin 
about eighteen by twenty-two feet, the roof cov- 
ered with boards held down by weight poles, the 
logs unhewn, and the cracks neither chinked nor 
battened, a dirt floor, and across it several logs 
hewn on one side for seats. At one end stands 
the superintendent, a mere stripling, and before 
him are about half a dozen ladies and gentlemen 
as teachers, and thirty-two children. 

"The same superintendent still lives and still 
labors in the delightful task of training the young 
in the Sunday school; and as he contemplates in 
imagination the five and a half millions of children 
now being trained in the Sunday schools of the 
United States, and then looks forward down the 
long corridors of time, when these children shall 
be the actors in the great drama of life, he sees 
the dawn of that happy day, foretold by seers and 
prophet, when the knowledge of God shall cover 
the whole earth." — T. J. Pilgkim. 

QUESTIONS 

1. See if you can find New York City on your map. 

2. "Were there many people in Texas in 1828? Who, 

principally? 

3. What was an empresario? 

4. Write a short story of Stephen F. Austin. 

5. Describe that school house. 

6. How have things changed today? 

7. Describe the church where you go to Sunday 

school. 



THE RAIN FROG 

All day long a little frog, 

Sat, and blinked with beady eyes, 
On an old and moss-grown log; 

All day long, within the deep, 

Brazen and unruffled sea 
Lay the wind in death-like sleep; 

All day long the birds sang not 

But sat, stifling in the trees, 
For their throats were dry and hot. 

But at even with voice most shrill, 

Cried the frog to God for rain; 
And his voice would not be still. 

To his cry the answer came ; 

God spake from the moving cloud 
Thunder-voiced with tongue of flame, 

And the rain fell, full and free ; 

And the flowers all drank their fill, 
And the birds sang in their glee, 

117 



118 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

And the sun sank out of sight, 

And the wind came in from the sea, 
'Neath God's bow with glory bright; 

And, that night, a little frog, 

Sat and mused the grace of God 
On an old and moss-grown log. 

— John P. Sjolander. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Give the story of Mr. Sjolander 's life. 

2. What characterizes his poetry? 

3. Note the correctness and refinement of his expres- 

sions to be very remarkable in a foreigner with- 
out an English education. 

4. "Where does he live? 

5. How does the poet picture to us the intense 

drought ? 

6. What elements of nature appear in his picture? 

7. What animal is selected as the center of the picture ? 

8. Could he have made a better selection? 

9. What is a rain frog,? How does it differ from a 

tree frog? 

10. Describe the rain storm. 

11. Why does the poet represent the rain as an answer 

to the frog's prayer? 

12. Can frogs pray ? What does the poet mean ? 

13. Try to draw a pencil picture of the little frog. 



SWINGING SONG 

Comes a bird-note softly calling, 

Sweet! sweet! 
'Tis a love-song, pure, enthralling, 

And complete. 
Into some one's heart 'tis falling, 

Doubt to cheat. 
Up we go, 

Swaying, swinging, 
Down we go, 

Closer clinging! 

Through the blue the clouds are drifting, 

Oh, so slow ! 
Through the tree-tops, moving, shifting, 

To and fro ; 
Summer's sun gold-dust is shifting 

All aglow ! 

Light of heart as any feather, 

Now we swing ; 
But when cares and wintry weather 

Shadows bring, 
Passing, love, through life together. 

Still we'll sing; 

119 



120 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 



Up we go, 

Swaying, swinging, 
Down we go, 

Closer clinging! 

— John P. Sjolander. 

QUESTIONS 

1. The poet represents the bird in the forest as sing- 

ing to his mate. The second stanza give's the 
picture: The clouds drifting over the blue sky, 
the sunlight, shifting through the tree-tops. 
The poet hears the song of the bird, and receives 
it as a message into his own life. So he sings to 
his mate in the third stanza. 

2. Do you catch the swinging movement of the song, 

suggesting the swinging of the bird on the bough 
of the tree, as the summer breeze blows through 
the forest? 

3. Note that the sentiment is one of joy — the joy of 

companionship, bringing loving hearts closer to- 
gether. 

4. Memorize the poem. See if you can sing it. 



JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 



THE TRIBUNE OF THE PEOPLE 



The mention of the 
name, James Stephen 
Hogg", brings a 
brightening to the eye 
and a quickening to 
the heart of Texans. 
Magnetic leadership, 
when it is directed to 
all that is good, en- 
during, true and 
steadfast, when it in- 
spires the best im- 
pulses in men and 
stimulates them to 
action, is a gift from 
God and fulfills his law and plans for us. A great 
leader whose powers are directed for good is a 
benefactor to mankind, bringing understandings, 
growth and good-will, excluding selfishness, van- 
ity, love of display, and all useless burdens to the 
people. 

By nature a great leader was James Stephen 
Hogg, and his true motive was genuine love for 
the people and an unselfish interest in their wel- 

121 




MISS KATIE DAFFAX 




JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 



122 



JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 123 

fare. To the young men of Texas, because of his 
industry, ability and determination to conquer dif- 
ficulties, his truthfulness and rugged simplicity, 
his life will ever be an inspiration. By his faith- 
fulness to every trust, great and small, his fearless 
and aggressive honesty, his earnestness and plain 
speech, he won and deserved the respect of all who 
came near him. 

The hardships, privations, self-sacrifices and 
well-fought battles of his earlier years purified the 
gold of his character, for in his youth time there 
was little ease and idleness. Of great hope, great 
ambitions and a determination to make a man of 
himself by overcoming every difficulty, he strug- 
gled, on and on, preparing himself in the valuable 
schools of patience, endurance, self-understand- 
ing, broad sympathy and faith in God. His was 
a life of unstinted labor, increasing effort, great 
proportions and great results. 

From the first bread-winning struggle of a poor 
boy to the brightest place in the hearts of his peo- 
ple there was a steady, wholesome growth. It is 
all real, human, delightful, and helpful. 

Endowed physically and mentally with the ma- 
terials which make greatness by the natural law 
of development, greatness came to him ; it was his 
inheritance. He was great by nature, not by 
chance, circumstance, or accident. Under all cir- 
cumstances he would have been a great man ; for, 
under all circumstances, favorable or unfavorable, 



124 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

pleasant or unpleasant, he would have been him- 
self, with an individuality, a unique bearing and 
a presence all his own. 

As justice of the peace, county attorney, dis- 
trict attorney, attorney general, or governor, his 
service was signalized by a fearless interpreta- 
tion of duty, with no hesitation to incur "the ill 
will of the lawless." 

During the years of his public service, crowded 
with labor and honor, he was first, last, and al- 
ways the friend of the people; their well-being 
was his first thought; he believed in the aris- 
tocracy of brain and heart, and nothing could 
wean from him the esteem, the confidence, the love 
of the common people. All who were worthy, 
were welcome in his presence; it was only those 
whom he considered the enemies to right and truth 
whom he positively refused to call his friends. 
Among his friends were some of the truest patri- 
ots of his time. 

His private life was without reproach and his 
home was of the kind which is the foundation of 
all solid national governments, love, faith in God, 
and consideration, one for the other, blessing 
it. 

Among this good man's devoted friends were 
little children ; there was a tenderness and a sweet- 
ness in his nature, and little ones who seem to 
know intuitively who is good, loved and trusted 
him. He was probably more generally loved than 



JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 125 

any other man who ever lived in Texas, having an 
absolute hold upon the hearts of the people. 

He was a thorough and an adoring Texan and 
a superb product of this State ! 

James Stephen Hogg, of Scotch-Irish descent, 
was born on the 24th day of March, 1851, near 
Rusk, Cherokee County, Texas. His father, 
Joseph Lewis, and his mother, Lucinda McMath 
Hogg, moved to the republic of Texas in 1839, lo- 
cating first near Nacogdoches. Joseph Lewis 
Hogg represented his district in the Eighth Texas 
Congress, which held its session at Old Washing- 
ton; in 1843 and 1844, he w T as a delegate to the 
annexation convention which sat at Austin on July 
4, 1845, and a member of the state Senate of the 
first Texas legislature in 1846. Senator Hogg re- 
signed his seat in the Senate to give volunteer 
service under Governor Henderson's leadership in 
the Mexican War. At the close of the war he re- 
sumed his seat in the Senate. He voted for se- 
cession and joined the Confederate army in 1861, 
with a commission as brigadier-general from Pres- 
ident Davis. He died in May, 1863, while com- 
manding his brigade at Corinth. 

At the age of eleven, James Stephen, left an 
orphan, was thrown upon his own resources. 
After attending school for a short time he left 
Cherokee County and went to Longview, where he 
obtained employment as "devil" in a printing of- 
fice. He saved enough money to buy the printing 



126 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

outfit, which he moved to Quitman, Wood County, 
and became the editor of the Quitman News. He 
studied law at night and whenever he could spare 
the time from the paper, and was admitted to the 
bar of Wood County in 1874, aged twenty-four 
years. 

Having successfully served as justice of the 
peace, in 1878 he was elected county attorney of 
Wood County, and in 1880 he was elected district 
attorney of the Seventh Judicial district. 

After four years of satisfactory service he 
moved to Tyler, where he devoted himself exclu- 
sively to his private practice. He became candi- 
date for attorney general in 1886, was elected, and 
filled this very important office with distinction for 
four years. 

His administration as attorney general is 
marked in that he compelled all corporations to 
comply with the law, actually and "really, to the 
letter.' ' He was firm and unswerving in this, and 
for this, if for no other service, Texas is deeply 
grateful to him. There was no evading the law, 
nor was there any misinterpretation of it. Fear- 
less, just, sure of the right, always ready to take 
the initiative, he stood firmly by the Constitu- 
tion of the State of Texas and forced others to 
do it. 

In 1890 he announced himself a candidate for 
governor, selecting his birthplace as the scene of 
his opening speech, and he was elected by a mag- 



JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 127 

nificent majority and inaugurated on the thirtieth 
day of January, 1891. 

The first important action of his administration 
was the creation of the Railroad Commission of 
Texas, a tribunal which has served as a model for 
many other state commissions since established. 
Through the influence of Governor Hogg laws 
were passed regulating land ownership in Texas 
and restricting the ownership of lands by cor- 
porations on prescribed conditions. These were 
public services of wonderful magnitude. 

The corporations, or the "conservative ele- 
ment," opposed Governor Hogg's second term and 
vigorously fought for their candidate, Judge 
George Clark of McLennan County. It was a 
spirited campaign, feelings ran high, and the en- 
tire State was aroused. Governor Hogg was re- 
elected. 

He retired from the governorship in 1895 and 
renewed the practice of law, first in Austin and 
later in Houston. 

He died in Houston on the third day of March, 
1906. On the day before he died, Governor Hogg, 
speaking informally to his family and friends, 
stated that it was his desire that a pecan and a 
walnut tree be placed at the head and at the foot 
of his grave that the children of Texas might 
gather the nuts and plant them near their homes. 
Thus, in time, might Texas soil bring forth rich 
harvests of pecans and walnuts. 



128 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Though his virtues will be commemorated in 
marble and bronze, and statues erected to tell the 
stranger of his life and death, the great work 
which he accomplished for the plain people will be 
his enduring monument. 

In a place high on the roll of her illustrious sons 
will Texas write his name, for he has left a record 
made by few men in any State or in any epoch of 
national life. 

— Miss Katie Daffan. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Who is the author of this sketch ? In what work 

is she engaged at present ? 

2. Do you think that a woman can write on such a 

subject as well as a man? "Why do you think 
as you do? 

3. "Why should we be interested in men like Mr. Hogg ? 

4. What does the author mean by calling him "the 

tribune of the people"? 

5. Find out something about the tribunes of the peo- 

ple in old Rome. 

6. How was Mr. Hogg a leader "by nature"? 

7. What hardships did he have to undergo? 

8. Name some of the public offices that he held. 

9. How did he perform his duties ? 

10. What did the little children that knew him think 

of him? 

11. Give his life story in your own words. 

12. What is meant by the Confederate army ? 

13. In what places in Texas did Mr. Hogg live? 



JAMES STEPHEN HOGG 129 

14. "Where did he die ? Where is he buried ? 

15. What was his last act for the children of the 

State ? 

16. What will be his most enduring monument? 

17. As we read of such a life how should it affect us? 






LITTLE CHILDREN OF THE MILL 

For them no hope may ever be fulfilled, 

All thoughts of sunshine, birds or bees or 
flowers, 
Of flowing streams, — these, these, must all be 
stilled, 
And cruel labor mark the long-drawn hours. 

For them no games, no races on the sward, 
Or wrestling, rough and gay, in happy health, 

No glow of rounded cheek, no sweet reward, 
No boyish pranks, no daring wiles of stealth 

That tells of frolics in the fruiting fields, — 

The shout, the song, the march to martial strain 

Have ceased to be ; and wistful childhood yields 
Its budding promise : it comes not again. 

Bereft of these, he grows bewildered, pale, 

And listless, knots the thread that slips again. 

His vacant ears list to the spindles' tale 
Of everlasting drowse and toiling strain. 

Oh, brothers! sisters! is it heedless slight 
Of God's untarnished gift, a little child, 

130 



LITTLE CHILDREN OF THE MILL 131 

That we should take the surest way to blight 
A soul? Can we with Him be reconciled? 

— Mrs. J. Kendrick Collins. 

QUESTIONS 

1. "Who are the little children of the mill? 

2. Of what pleasure are they deprived? 

3. "Why can they not play as you do? 

4. What are "long-drawn hours"? "Fruiting 

fields"? "Wistful childhood"? 

5. Do you think it right to make them live such lives? 

6. Is this poem written for children or for grown peo- 

ple? Why do you think as you do? 

7. What can we do to change the lives of these chil- 

dren of the mills ? 



MONDAY 

Today the work begins anew, 

And, be it small or be it great, 
And known to many or to few, 

I know that this week's work shall wait, 
With all the other work I do, 

For me at last at Heaven's gate. 

And when to me the King shall call, 
And ask me for this week He gave, 

It will not matter then at all, 

There, in that land beyond the grave, 

If this week's work be great or small, 
So it be honest work and brave. 

—P. W. Horn. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Why did the writer call this poem " Monday"? 

2. How does Monday differ from other days? Write 

your answer in fifty words. 

3. Does our work wait for us "at Heaven's gate"? 

What is the meaning? 

4. What King is referred to? 

5. What is the important thing about our work? 

6. How many stanzas in this little poem? 

7. How many lines to the stanza ? 

8. Which lines end with similar sounds? What do 

you call this? 

132 



MANUAL TRAINING 



To no boy in the 
world does manual 
training mean more 
in a practical way 
than to the boys of 
the South today. The 
Southern States are 
being dotted all over 
with cotton mills and 
factories, and men 
are being imported 
from the North at 
high salaries to put 
the machinery into 
them and to superin- 
tend them after they are in actual operation. This 
is not because the men of the North are by na- 
ture any more gifted along mechanical lines. It 
is only because they have for a longer time been 
trained to use their hands and to work with ma- 
chinery. The school boy of today who would pre- 
pare himself for an active part in the great in- 
dustrial life with which the South is even now be- 
ginning to be flooded cannot do better than to take 
as a part of his preparation the best and most 

133 




p. w. HORN 



134 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

thorough course in manual training which he can 
secure. 

All of these things are perfectly plain. I have 
no doubt that our boys and girls have thought of 
them all again and again. 

And yet ! — and yet ! I doubt if these are, after 
all, the real meaning of our courses in manual 
training and domestic science and agriculture. 
They have their practical value; they help us 
in the mere matters of dollars and cents, un- 
doubtedly; and yet, I am strongly convinced that 
he who looks no deeper than this will miss the 
greatest and most vital of the lessons they would 
teach us. 

One of the chief of these lessons is that of the 
dignity of manual labor. The boy who in school 
has himself worked at the blacksmith's forge, or 
at the carpenter's bench, or in the garden, is not 
likely to look down upon the man who works at 
these things out of school. Particularly will this 
be true if he has sometimes failed to accomplish 
some of the tasks he has attempted with them. If 
he finds out that the forging of a piece of iron ac- 
cording to a pattern is something that requires the 
use of brains, he will not afterward consider this 
task as menial. Even a little good, wholesome 
failure along some of these lines may do a boy 
good. We have some measure of respect for the 
man who daily does things which we ourselves 
have failed to do. 



MANUAL TRAINING 135 

It seems a pity that anybody should need to 
learn so simple a lesson as that of the dignity of 
labor, and yet many of us do. You doubtless re- 
member from your third reader the story of 
Washington and the corporal. The corporal 
thought it beneath the dignity of his office for him 
to take hold of the log which his men were trying 
to move; but Washington did not. He worked 
with all his might, and, then, turning to the cor- 
poral — who had not recognized him — said, "Sir, 
when you are again in need of help to move your 
logs, send for your commander-in-chief . ' ' It has 
always been that way. There have always been 
little men who felt that manual labor was beneath 
them, but the Washingtons have always known 
better. 

The great men of the world have all had a high 
respect for manual labor, and many of them have 
been themselves skilled workmen. Paul, the apos- 
tle, was a tent-maker. The Child whose birth- 
day the Christmas season celebrates w T as the son 
of a carpenter and, as a child, worked at this 
same trade. Ruskin, the great writer and painter, 
says that he never painted better than after he 
had just scrubbed off the steps of some old castle 
in order to get a clean place in which to do his 
work. Tolstoy was a shoemaker. 

The simple truth about it is, that there is no 
such thing as a menial task, unless it is menially 
done. There is nothing either noble or ignoble in 



136 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

the work itself. It depends on the way in which 
it is done. 

—P. W. Horn. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What is meant by ''manual training"? 

2. To whom do you think Mr. Horn was writing ? 

3. What do you understand by "the dignity of man- 

ual labor"? 

4. Do you agree with the writer ? Why ? 

5. Tell the story of Washington and the corporal. 

What is a corporal? 

6. Give in writing three reasons why we should learn 

how to work with our hands. 



A BOY'S WHISTLE 



If I could whistle like 

I used when I 

was just a boy, 
And fill the echoes 

plum full of that 

old- fashioned 

joy, 
I guess 'at I'd be 

willing then to 

turn my back on 

things 
An' say farewell to 

scenes down here 

and try my angel 

wings ; 
Oh, onst more to pucker up an' ripple soft, an' 

trill 
Until the music seemed to fall agin the far-off hill 
Like dew falls on a half-blown rose till it gits 

full and slips, 
Like jewels tricklin', tinklin' down from pink be- 

witchin' lips. 

Oh, yes, if I could whistle now like I could whistle 

then ! 
Just pucker up these grim old lips an' turn things 




JUDD MORTIMER LEWIS 



loose agin! 



137 



138 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

I'd like to set upon the knoll where trees was all 

around, 
Just set there, punchin' my bare toes into the 

smelly ground, 
An' trillin' just the same old tune I used to trill o' 

yore, 
With all the verve and ecstasy that won't come 

back no more, 
Until I seen ol' brown throat thrush come stearin' 

from his bush, 
An' lookin' round like he would say, say to the hull 

world, "Hush!" 



If I could whistle now, I'd like ter go along the 

road, 
Awakin' with my whistle shrill the scenes that 

once I knowed ; 
Just send the ripplin' music through the tama- 
racks an' pines, 
An' stirrin' all the blossoms on the mornin' glory 

vines ; 
Jest go sendin' all about me, all behind me an' 

before, 
First loud an' shrill as anything, an' then a gittin' 

lower, 
The same old whistle that was mine, the same old 

carol shrill 
'At used to bid the day good night an' mock the 

whippoorwill. 



A BOY'S WHISTLE 



139 



I seen a boy go past just now — his cheeks was like 
balloons — 

But, oh, the air was rendered sweet by old, re- 
membered tunes ! 

An' oh, the world sat lightly on that childish, 
happy imp ! 



9 




"HIS CHEEKS WAS LIKE BALLOONS' 



His trousers was all patched behind, his hat was 

torn and limp, 
"While one big toe that had been stubbed was 

twisted in a rag ; 



140 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

But, oh, that imp stepped high an' proud, with 

shoulders full o' brag 
An' whistled the same old way as I was wont 

to do, 
Till my old heart was in the tunes the little rascal 

blew. 

If I could whistle like he did — but now there's 

something gone! 
The trill is gone, the skill is gone! Sometimes 

when I'm alone 
I pucker and purse up my lips an' try an' try an' 

try, 
An' then the noise my ol' lips makes ain't nothin' 

but a sigh. 
It ain't no thing of learnin'; it can't be contrived 

by -art ; 
A boy must be behind it an' a great big boyish 

heart; 
A boy just out o' heaven must go whistlin' o' the 

song; 
No use o' tryin' when we're old, we've been away 

too long! 

— Judd Mortimer Lewis. 

QUESTIONS 

1. Find out what you can about Judd Mortimer Lewis, 

the author of this poem. 

2. Write a story of him as a boy / judging him from 

this piece. 



A BOY'S WHISTLE 141 

3. Was the boy different from the boys that you know ? 

4. How does a person whistle ? Can you explain why 

it is so much pleasure to a boy to whistle? 

5. Do you think that the author used such language 

in his poem as an ordinary boy would use ? Why 
does he use such language instead of correct ex- 
pressions ? 

6. Try telling the first stanza in good English. Do 

you gain or lose ? 

7. How many lines in each stanza ? How many sylla- 

bles in a line ? How many poetic feet in a line ? 



SING THE SOUTH! 

Sing the South ! Oh, the South ! Sing the South ! 

With her yellow, red roses, and pink! 
Where the air is like wine in the mouth, 

And there 's glad, surging life in the drink ! 
Sing the South ! Oh, the beautiful South ! 

With her sweep of wide, star-blossomed plains — 
Red-lipped — oh, the kisses of her mouth, 

Sends the blood rushing swift in the veins ! 

Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! 

Let her glories ring clear ! 
Tike the song in the heart 

Of the lover when, near 
Where he leans on the bars, 

Trembling beauty appears, 
With her eyes like blue stars 

Smiling glad through her tears ! 






Sing the South ! Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! 

Oh, her bayous that sleep in the shade ! 
Oh, the pout of her lily-kissed mouth 

Whose kiss maketh man unafraid! 
Oh, the lingering clasp of her arms! 

Oh, the witcheries sweet of each wile! 
Oh, her broad fertile prairies and farms! 

There's a promise of joy in her smile! 

142 ' 









SING THE SOUTH 143 

Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! 

Let her glories ring clear! 
And lilt like the kiss 

Of her own atmosphere! 
Oh, her sweet blossoms lie! 

Like a kiss on the mouth ! 
There's no love like the South! 

Sing the South! Sing the South! 

— Judd Mortimer Lewis. 

QUESTIONS 

1. This is a patriotic song. What is meant by patri- 

otic ? 

2. Where was Mr. Lewis born ? How long has he been 

in the South ? 

3. What do you mean by ' ' the South ' ' ? 

4. Where does he live at this time ? What does he do ? 

5. What is it that he likes in the South?, 

6. What flowers are mentioned? Do these grow about 

your home? 

7. What are bayous? Star-blossomed plains? Witch- 

eries ? 

8. How may we "sing the South"? 

9. Notice that this poem has a chorus or refrain after 

each stanza. Do you like it better than the other 
kinds of poems? 
10. Memorize the poem. 



THE TEXAS RANGER 

" Texas Ranger" stands for heroism and man- 
liness. We can see him with his clear, bright 
eyes, beaming beneath his broad slouch hat, 
mounted on a fleet horse, dangerous to any rider 
save his own. A coarse woolen blanket is tightly 
strapped behind his cow-boy saddle, pistols and 
knives are in his belt, and determination is writ- 
ten on his face. 

Free as the untrained winds that sweep the 
boundless prairies, he protected the frontier, was 
a terror to the freebooting Mexicans, and a sworn 
foe to the Indians who, with war whoop and flam- 
ing torch, terrified helpless men, women, and chil- 
dren. 

During the early days of colonization Texas was 
rapidly gaining a reputation for crime, despera- 
tion, and massacre. Hence, volunteer companies 
for home protection were organized. These were 
the first soldiers to be called "Rangers." But as 
there were many other important affairs to be 
dealt with, it was not until after the battle of San 
Jacinto that the Legislature provided for the or- 
ganization and maintenance of mounted com- 
panies of Rangers to defend the frontier. 

There was a freedom and an ease about this 

144 



THE TEXAS RANGER 145 

character that gave him individuality and charm. 
He followed no fixed military rules, wore no uni- 
form, and took part in no parades. He was en- 
listed for active service, and was ready at any 
moment to be called to duty. Well armed and 
mounted, certain as to aim, precise in his estimate 
as to time and distance, always ready for the 
worst, the Ranger has stood in a class alone. His 
protection extended to all kinds of people. He re- 
stored and encouraged order and confidence, built 
up that which had been destroyed, and put an end 
to viciousness and vice. 

There is an exciting and heroic side to all bor- 
der warfare, with its shifting dangers and con- 
stant scenes of death. At the same time, the life 
is painful and tragic, more terrible than would 
seem possible. When we remember that the 
Ranger had to pass his life under the silent stars, 
away from his home and loved ones, galloping 
over the sand and sage of the border plains, ever 
watched by the fierce Indian and fiercer cut-throat 
Mexican or white man, sleeping in cane-brakes and 
snow-covered marshes and swamps, our hearts 
should thrill with gratitude to him. 

The populated section of Texas in the early 
days was chiefly along the gulf coast and in the 
eastern section along the Sabine river. Grad- 
ually the prairies and the forests were filled up 
with settlements. An occasional venturer would 
take his family and go into the very heart of the 



146 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

interior. He would build a home by some stream, 
and select a rich spot for bis crops. Northward 
and westward, the border slowly extended for 
hundreds of miles. But for the presence of the 
Eangers, the guardians of safety and domestic 
peace, who accompanied or went ahead of the set- 
tler to clear the path of dangers, all settlements 
would have been helpless against the marauders 
and thieves who infested the region. 

The years immediately following the Texas 
revolution were dangerous times for the settlers. 
There were troubles within and without. There 
was strife and disagreement among the leaders, 
there was fear and doubt in the hearts of the citi- 
zens. They all felt the need of a well-organized, 
armed support, a full military system, to put down 
internal disorder and foreign invasion. Out of 
these necessities, the Kanger service grew and ob- 
tained full legal status and military recognition. 
It is largely due to this efficient Eanger service 
that we have our present perfected system of 
courts and constabulary. 

The Eanger 's manner of arrest was to draw his 
six-shooter, and force his prisoner to look for a 
minute into its deep, black barrel, while his rest- 
less fingers felt around the quick trigger. Not 
often would a man resist arrest under those cir- 
cumstances. 

One of the most serious questions that came up 
for the Eanger to settle was the cattle stealing up 



THE TEXAS RANGER 147 

and down the Kio Grande. But through the per- 
sistent efforts of the Eanger these tragic border 
situations were put under the control of law and 
courts. Now the whole frontier is peopled with 
industrious, enterprising, and intelligent citizens. 
The Ranger has given to us a lofty type of man- 
hood. He who protects the helpless, rescues the 
perishing, and cares for the dying, fulfills the holy 
law of God. The Texas Banger's spurs were won 
by service of danger, and his badge of knighthood 
was the bright lone star. Like King Richard of 
old, he was lion-hearted ; and every happy home in 
Texas owes him gratitude and honor. 

— Miss Katie Daffa^. 

QUESTIONS 

1. "What does the word "Ranger" mean? 

2. Who were the desperadoes and where did they come 

from ? 

3. Give a description of a typical Ranger. 

4. Why was he so feared? 

5. What is a constabulary? 

6. Learn the names of some noted Rangers. 

7. Who is Captain Bill McDonald? 

8. Write a composition on the present Ranger force. 



CRICKETS' BAND CONCERT 

The other night the moon was bright 
And fairies frolicked on the green; 

And to and fro upon tiptoe, 

They danced amid the moonlight sheen. 

The moon so bright cast flickering light 

Upon the dancers hand in hand, 
The music sweet for flying feet, 

Was furnished by the Crickets ' Band. 

The mortal eye was dazzled by 
The brilliance of the fairy throng ; 

The mortal ear heard soft and clear 
The music of the crickets' song. 

The fun grew great, the hour grew late, 
Yet still the joyous fairies danced; 

The violins moaned, the bass drums groaned, 
The leader wildly swayed and pranced. 

Puck raised his hand: "Stop, fairy band, 
Just pause and listen now to me, 

Our fun was great, so was our fete, 

But don't you think it's time for tea?" 

148 






CRICKETS' BAND CONCERT 149 

The music stopped, the crickets hopped 
To where the dainty feast was laid ; 

The fairies ' brew was morning dew, 
Of pollen gold the cakes were made. 

A morning breeze then swayed the trees, 

A herald of the coming day ; 
An early bird woke up and stirred, 

And warned the troup to fly away. 

The moon at rest was in the west, 

And all the fairy herd had flown ; 
And with a sigh, I found that I 

Was lying in my room alone. 

And yet not quite, for on the night 

A song rose out of Fairyland ; 
So sweet and clear it reached my ear, 

I knew it was the Crickets ' Band. 

— Miss Helen Scott. 

QUESTIONS 

1. This poem was written by a fourteen-year-old high 

school girl. Two features in it are especially no- 
ticeable : the imagery, and the human element. 
See if you can discover each. 

2. What is the meaning of picturesque? Pick out the 

picturesque elements. 

3. Where was the concert held? Who gave it? At 

what time? 



150 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

4. Who were the spectators ? 

5. Who was Puck? Read about him in Shakespeare's 

play, Midsummer Night's Dream. 

6. What do the last two stanzas reveal to you? 

7. Note the peculiar rhyme. 



LITTLE APRONS 



Six little aprons in a 
row, 
Each with a pocket 
fine, 
We know there is a 
baby in that 
house 
By the aprons on 
the line. 
Pertlv waving and 
flapping about, 
Swinging their 
chubby sleeves, 
Catching the breeze 
that sings 
along 

Or whistles beneath the eaves. 




MRS. MARY ODOM 



Blue check aprons, fit for a boy 
With a roguish, rosy face ; 

Not for a girl, or they would be 
All white with ruffles and lace. 

A sturdy boy, who toddles about 
With never a thought of dirt — 

151 



152 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Who can stub his dear little toe and fall 
And not even think he's hurt. 

Blue check aprons, buttoned close 

Up to the dimpled chin : 
Just the things for a boy to wear, 

To be gay and jolly in. 
What does it matter about the mud 

With its yellow and ugly stain? 
His check apron is all right, — 

It'll wash clean again ! 

Dear little aprons ! waving there, 

So restless, quaint, and blue, — 
How many precious hopes have been 

Wrapped up in such as you ! 
The days that are the sweetest, 

And to Mothers most divine, 
Are often those when they can count 

Check aprons on the line. 

— Mrs. Mary Odom. 

QUESTIONS 

1. How many little aprons were on the line? De- 

scribe them. 

2. Write a story about the children in that home, judg- 

ing from the aprons. 

3. How could the boys' aprons be distinguished from 

the girls'? 

4. What do the little aprons tell us of the mother? 

5. What is it that you like best in this selection ? 






A SONG OP THE SIMPLER THINGS 



Oh, sing me a song of 
the simpler 
things — 
Of the lives that 
love and laugh ; 
I'm tired of war and 
the song of 
sweat 
That tells but the 
bitter half. 
The earth is strong 
and the world 
is well — 
'Tis the singer 
that 's all awry, 
The sun is up and will never go down 
Till the stars are in the sky. 

Oh, sing me a song of the manly man 

Who knows his burden's his own, — 
The man who laughs in the rain or shine 

While he swings his hoe alone. 
It isn't the thing that's done to us 

That burns like a red-hot brand — 
It's the thing we do or leave undone 

Because we don't understand. 

153 




CLARENCE OUSLEY 



154 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Oh, sing me a song of fruits and flowers — 

The tints of the peach and rose, 
Or the blush that blows on the virgin cheek 

Of the fairest thing that grows. 
I'm tired of wars and alarum bells, 

And the light that flames the sky — 
Oh, sing me a song of the simpler things 

That live and love and die. 

— Clarence Ousley. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What does the poet mean by the "simpler things"? 

2. What does he oppose to the simpler things of life? 

3. What is suggested by the "song of sweat"? By 

"alarum bells"? By "the light that flames the 
sky"? 

4. Memorize the poem. 



THE RAIN, THE RAINBOW, AND THE SUNSET 

It was the most beautiful and the most welcome 
rain that ever fell — welcome to a thirsting earth, 
parched, and cracked, and bare; with cattle almost 
starving upon grass, withered and scorched, and 
dry as straw; with corn spindling and struggling 
and jaundiced; with cotton not sprouted or not 
even planted in the hard, unyielding clods; with 
spring gardens and flower beds almost as sere as 
the last days of summer; with farmers, stockmen, 
merchants, bankers, manufacturers, and railroad- 
ers, still nervous from last year's panic, counting 
accrued and accruing losses in all the exaggeration 
of business blues — why, it was welcome as manna 
and about as desperately needed. 

And beautiful beyond anv other beauty of na- 
ture or art at. their best — literally beautiful, the 
dream of the poet and the rhapsody of the painter 
materialized in a shower of silver and perfume, 
visible and sensible to the sight and smell, and the 
rainbow and the pot of gold at the end of it — 
really and truly. 

It started a little after five o'clock in the midst 
of a blustering, dust-choking gale from the south- 
east. A few big spluttering drops fell and 
sprinkled the sidewalks and roads. Ladies who 

155 



156 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

were driving whipped up a little, but the men only 
looked skyward wistfully, doubtingly, and went on 
about their business — they had been bluffed too 
often to take the clouds seriously. 

It spluttered on. 

The women folk laid on the whip harder, loose 
animals sniffed the moisture and broke for shelter, 
and the doubting Thomases began to take notice 
and look hopeful. 

A great blanketing cloud with a white fringe 
was spreading over from the southwest and a 
darker one crept narrowly along the southern hori- 
zon. The wind held steady and the drops fell 
thicker; the dust was laid and the water trickled 
from the roofs into the rain spouts. 

Then it ramed — sure enough wet rain — and the 
people almost forgot to close the doors and put 
down the windows. They stood and watched, 
smiling and rejoicing, holding their breath and 
praying that the wind would not shift to the fatal 
northwest, which had blighted every prospect for 
six months. 

But it kept on raining, and the wise men who 
had been so skeptical began to say, "I told you 
so." 

In the very midst of it the sun shone with such 
whiteness and softness as never before fell on 
gladdened eyes. People looked right into it with- 
out blinking. The clouds had rifted in the west as 
they banked in the east; they had met overhead 



THE RAIN, RAINBOW AND SUNSET 157 

and poured down their treasure until it ran in the 
ditches. 

It was a slanting, glistening shower of pearls ; a 
rustling, rattling rush of silver beads on threads 
of invisible wire shaken in the sun. It fairly 
danced and sang like a living thing of spangles 
and fresh odors. 

Two farmers with a wagon load of hogs drove 
along the road slowly, lazily, actually reveling in 
the money-making wetness. 

" If the sun shines through the rain, it will rain 
again tomorrow. " There was added zest in the 
hope of the old weather proverb, and a double 
rainbow gave the promise greater impress. It 
spanned the whole eastern sky with its ancient 
glory. 

And still the rain fell, now lighter, now heavier, 
but unfailingly — and the thunder rolled pro- 
foundly and assuringly — not savagely and crack- 
ingly, but so evenly and harmoniously that even 
the women smiled and were not afraid. 

It was a sweet and glorious hour. 

Supper got cold on the table, the rain was more 
edifying than the victuals. 

As soon as it closed the children were out wad- 
ing in the puddles and squashing mud through 
their toes. The thrifty gardener hastened to set 
sweet peppers and eggplants and to look around 
for poles to stick the running beans. 

And then for a benediction and blessing on it 



158 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

all, just as the sun set, the clouds banked in the 
west and north, and the gold of a dying day 
poured through a crevice and spattered all the sky 
with a flaming yellow and red on the molten white 
of the heavenly canvas which the Master Painter 
deigns now and then to exhibit to the wondering 
eye of the children of men. 

Today the plows will be running. There will 
be crops hereabouts. 

— Clarence Ousley. 

QUESTIONS 

1. How does the writer prepare the people for the 

rain? How does he prepare the reader? 

2. What is the reference to "manna"? 

3. Notice how each person is affected : How are the 

women affected ? How the business men ? How 
the farmers? How the children? How the 
gardener? Which showed the most sensible 
judgment ? 



THE SPIDERS 



Close by life's gar- 

clenside, 
Silently, ceaselessly, 
Tangling* the hearts 

of men 
Deep in its meshes, 
Spinneth a spider. 

Silently, ceaselessly, 

«/ 7 «/ 7 

Weaving a web that is 

Fashioned of filmi- 
ness, 

Sun-gleams and gos- 
samers, 

Dew-pearled and 
odorous ; 

Weaving a web that is 
Frailer than mist at times, 
Steel-strong at others, 
Tangling the hearts of men 
Ever and hopelessly 
In its soft thonging, 
Spinneth the blithe-footed 
Spider of Love ! 

159 




HILTON ROSS GREER 



160 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

Close by life's gardenside, 
Swiftly, relentlessly, 
Stifling the hearts of men 
In its thick meshes, 
Spinneth a spider. 

Silently, ceaselessly, 
Swiftly, relentlessly, 
Weaving a web that is 
Dull-hued and lustreless ; 
Weaving a web so dense 
Yet so impalpable, 
Soft and insidious, 
None may escape it — 
Spinneth the thousand-eyed, 
Eager, implacable, 
Gray, gaunt, and terrible, 
Spider of Death ! 

— Hilton Eoss Greek. 

QUESTIONS 

1. What are spiders? Why do people dislike them? 

Do you like them as they are pictured in this 
poem ? Could the poet not have found some 
more appropriate object in nature to use for his 
purpose ? 

2. What two kinds of spiders are referred to? How 

are their kinds of work distinguished in the 
poem? 

3. What is meant by "life's gardenside"? Why do 

spiders like to spin their webs in gardens? 









THE SPIDERS 161 

4. "What do spiders represent in this poem ? What is 

a figure of speech? Find the name of this fig- 
ure. 

5. Do you see any gain in putting so many lines to- 

gether in one stanza? 

6. The line is dactylic dimeter. Find out what is 

meant by this. 

7. Write the thought of the poem in your own words/ 

in two sentences. 



. . 



PICTURES IN THE AIR" 



Those "pictures in the air" do not grow less 
distinct as time sets us farther away. I can see 
the old home now just as clearly as when it dawned 
upon my earliest consciousness. I am as confi- 
dent of the red rose that climbed over the south 
window as when I used to watch it, spring after 
spring, in the vain hope that the gray mocking- 
bird would build her nest lower, so that I could 
look in. I know how the Cape Jessamine bloomed 
in the yard, and the still summer evenings were 
heavy with the perfume. I can see still the grand 
old pine trees and the magnolias down at the foot 
of the hill beside the brook — the little brook that 
trailed its band of green down the brown fields in 
winter, and that sang a little contented, happy 
song the livelong summer days. We crossed the 
brook on a bridge with the railing of twisted vines, 
and then we came to the village. 

A few houses scattered here and there, up and 
down the valley, a little church with a square 
topped belfry — this was Springville. I used to 
stand at our gate and look down, in the still even- 
ings, at the smoke going up from all the chimneys, 

almost in straight lines, with only an occasional 

162 



• "PICTURES IN THE AIR" 163 

curve — and I thought it must be because it was 
eager to get out of the valleys, away from the 
houses, and up into the free, clear blue of heaven ! 



One evening in May I walked slowly homeward, 
while the sun went down behind the wooded hills 
that lay along the west. I was taking to my 
mother a handful of white flowers, the fruits of 
that evening's expedition. As I went along the 
ridge of the hill toward our house, I could see the 
tall pines, with straight, smooth trunks, that stood 
about our little yard. The sun was shining on the 
pinetops then, though the shadows had almost hid- 
den the village below, and were beginning to fall 
upon our house. I had watched the pines so much 
that I knew them in all their aspects. I knew 
how they let the sunrise trickle through their limbs 
and how, at noon, the sun shot long shafts of light 
down to the dry, brown needles at their feet. I 
knew how their trunks s waved and leaned toward 
each other when the wind rose, and how their mur- 
muring swelled and shrank like organ tones. I 
knew how sunset looked through them, as through 
cathedral windows, and their trunks were columns, 
holding up some mighty arched roof, while the 
unseen musician, far afloat, played his grand vol- 
untary. But that May evening, I remember, there 
was scarcely a murmur in the pines. The low of 
home-coming cows, the sound of a woodman's ax, 



164 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

the musical tinkle of sheep bells, came up from the 
valley and followed me into the house. 



There were little waves that washed over the 
sandy shore with a long, murmuring sound that 
was like the song of the pines. I thought how 
those pines that are nearest the sea catch the roar 
of breakers and the murmur of little wavelets, and 
communicate them to others farther away, while 
these in turn send on the notes to others; so the 
pines far inland sing mystic songs (if we could but 
translate them aright) of the summer sea that 
lies shining upon the far-off borders of the world. 

The song of the sea was in all my dreams that 
night. It went on murmuring its low monotone 
through all the hours of darkness. Several times 
I awoke, and, half-fearing that it might be a 
dream, drew the curtain and looked out. The 
moon had risen then, and the top of every wave 
was a silver crest, with dark valleys between. 
Out in the woods the whippoorwills had the night 
to themselves and were filling it with pathos. 



"A dream? What shall it be?" I asked, laugh- 
ing softly. "And how shall I make it? A wood- 
fire is dream enough in itself. This wood has 
stood in the forest, a grand old oak-tree. I won- 
der how many circling seasons were told in rings 



"PICTURES IN THE AIR" 165 

around its heart? I wonder how many changes 
it has witnessed! Do you hear that soft mur- 
mur? If you listen closely enough, you will hear 
many sounds in that low music — sounds which 
echoed around this oak-tree years and years ago, 
and sunk into its heart, somehow, and went on 
singing there. There are sounds of light breezes 
that just stirred its spring leaves, and of De- 
cember storms that sent them whirling into rus- 
tling heaps, brown and lifeless. I am sure it 
sings of the violet that bloomed at its root, as 
well as of the oak that stood so near it, and that 
was riven by lightning in a storm. It tells of 
the ' nestling voices' of young birds that were 
raised in its branches, and of the silent, sorrow- 
ful mother-bird, that stood with drooping wings by 
an empty nest, from which the tender nestlings 
had all flown. I think it stood by the river 's brink, 
and caught from it a sobbing of longing and un- 
rest, ending in the glad, exultant song of the sea, 
to which it hastened. Or, perhaps it caught that 
song from the pines. Perhaps it stood far inland, 
among the hills, and heard the pines singing al- 
ways, and saw magnolia blooms, like flocks of still, 
white birds, down in the valley below. I wish I 
could think that it stood near our old home !" 

— Mrs. Julia Truitt Bishop, 

From Kathleen Douglas. 



166 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

QUESTIONS 

1. What do you understand "pictures in the air" to 

be? Why so called? 

2. Why are quotations placed around the expression? 

3. Kathleen is represented as a little girl, and these 

scenes in her imagination. What kind of a girl 
would you take her to be? 

4. In what part of Texas would these scenes most 

likely be found? 

5. Could they be real? Did you ever see any like 

them ? 
6.' What do you like best in them? 
7. Write a story from imagination of some tree that 

you have seen. 



THEN AND NOW 



There's a little old 
house in town 
that I know, 
And if I am 
wealthy some 
day, 
I'll buy it no matter 
li o w h a r d I 
must work, 
Or how much they 
ask me to pay. 
It's only a cottage all 
covered with 
vines, 
And might be as 
nothing to some, 
But that little cottage is all that I want, 
Because once I knew it as home. 




HARRY LEE MARRINER 



I know every picket upon the old fence ; 

Each tree I regard as a friend, 
I love all the bushes that grow in the yard, 

And gladly, how gladly I'd spend 
The whole of my fortune to have it once more, 

And hold it and treasure it, too — 

167 



168 TEXAS LITERATURE READER 

That cheap little cottage now old and decayed- 
The happy old home that I knew. 



Back in the yard the children formed a man of 

yellow clay, 
And left him on a bit of plank when they were 

through their play; 
And on that clay-man beamed the sun, and to a 

cloud said he: 
"I'll pulverize that clay-man sure, Miss Cloud, 

just look at me." 
He beamed and glowed on that mud-man and 

frowned with fiery will, 
But the result was but to make that clay-man 

harder still. 

The little cloud she laughed aloud ; then to the sun 
she said: 

1 'Take off your heat, Mr. Sun, and look at this in- 
stead." 

She covered up her face and wept; the drops of 
rain fell fast, 

And soon that clay-man came to be a muddy spot 
at last. 

" No fair, no fair!" the sun cried out; "your tears 

were fakes and lies." 
"That's how to win," the cloud rejoined. "No 

woman ever cries 



THEN AND NOW 169 

When she would melt a man's hard heart; you've 

lived for many years, 
But my! how much you have to learn about a 

woman's tears !" 

— Harry Lee Marriner. 

QUESTIONS 

1. After a long struggle with disease, Harry Lee 

Marriner had to surrender his life ; but he never 
lost his buoyancy and optimism. In none of the 
five years' writing of his " weather verses" can 
the reader discover any evidence of his physical 
suffering. 

2. Why do you like his verses ? 

3. Why was he called the " Staff Poet"? 

4. What does he mean by ''Then"? By "Now"? 

How do the two times differ ? 

5. Why does he want the "little old house"? 

6. Tell about the "man of yellow clay." 

7. What are the names of his three little books ? Have 

you read them? 
.8. What is meant by "a sane, sound philosophy of 
life"? Do you think that he had it? 



"OUR DEAR OLD MAMMY" 

She is gone, our dear old mammy — loving, loyal, 

fierce and kind ; 
Black of face and broad of bosom; leaving us all 

sad, behind. 
We had known her first as babies — loved her 

through succeeding years, 
And we see her homely features through the mist 

of tears. 
Listen — can't you hear her singing, " Je^us, Lover 

of my Soul!" 
Can't you hear her tell a story of the "house built 

outer gold"? 
Can't you hear your bare feet flying from the 

kitchen where you'd go, 
Never knowing how she'd take it, asking her for 

scraps of dough ? 

i. 
Maybe, dear old mammy's happy; surely God 

must know her worth; 
And it took so very little to complete her joy on 

earth ; 
And some day we '11 hear crying when we 're called 

to our last home, 
" Praise de Lawd, de bressed Jesus! Glory, 

here 's mah chillun come ! ' ' 

— Harry Lee Marriner. 
170 



"OUR DEAR OLD MAMMY" 171 

QUESTIONS 

1. Who is referred to as "mammy"? 

2. Why was she so loved? 

3. Write a story of her as she is described in the poem. 

4. Do you know such a person? 

5. Ask some aged person to tell you about one of them. 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

Baker, Mrs. Karle Wilson. — Mrs. Baker, known to 
the magazine world as " Charlotte Wilson," was born in 
Little Rock, Arkansas, in 1878. After completing the 
course of the public schools of Little Rock, she took a 
special course in the University of Chicago, under the 
well-known novelist, Robert Herrick. In 1901 she came 
to Nacogdoches, Texas, where she still lives. Her first 
poem, "The Poet,' appeared in Harper's Magazine in 
1903. In 1907 she married Mr. Thomas Baker. She has 
the entree of the leading magazines of the country, but 
has not collected her writings. She seems equally gifted 
as a romancer and lyrist. The selection, "A Child's 
Game," is one of the prettiest. s 

Bishop, Mrs. Julia Truitt. — Mrs. Bishop lived in 
Texas from 1876 to 1895, making her home at times in 
Waco, Dallas, Austin, Houston, Galveston, as the de- 
mands of her chosen profession of journalism necessi- 
tated. She is now engaged in newspaper work in con- 
nection with the Birmingham News, and has her home 
in Birmingham, Alabama. The selection in the text is 
an extract from her Texas novel, Kathleen Douglas, 
written in Waco. 

Burgess, George Farmer. — Mr. Burgess was born in 
Wharton County, Texas, in 1861, and was educated in 
Texas schools. He was admitted to the bar in 1882, and 

173 



174 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

has represented his State in the National Congress since 
1901. His home address is Gonzales, Texas. 

On February 25, 1905, the National Congress held ex- 
ercises appropriate to the acceptance of the statues of 
Stephen F. Austin and Sam Houston from the State of 
Texas. On this occasion a number of Texas members 
made speeches. Among them was the Honorable G. F. 
Burgess, whose address is found in the text. 

Chittenden, William Lawrence. — Mr. Chittenden 
has made his reputation as a poet under the cognomen 
of "Larry Chittenden, the Poet-Ranchman of Texas.' 
He was born in New Jersey in 1862, and came to Texas 
in 1883. With his uncle he opened up the Chittenden 
ranch, near Anson in Jones County. He began his lit- 
erary career with reportorial work in New York City. 
In 1893 he issued his volume of poems, Ranch Verses, 
which has already gone through fourteen editions, and 
has given him international reputation. Later, he issued 
another volume of poems, Bermuda Verses, from his 
home in the Bermuda Islands. His humor and pic- 
turesque, imaginative power, combined with a delicate 
poetic fancy, has caused some to class him with James 
Whitcomb Riley and Eugene Field. The poem in the 
text is taken from Ranch Verses, by permission of the 
publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York. 

Collins, Mrs. Jennie Kendrick. — Mrs. Collins is a 
native of Mississippi, but has for many years made her 
home in San Antonio, Texas. Her residence is in Alamo 
Heights, a beautiful residential suburb. She travels ex- 
tensively with her husband, and has been connected with 
various literary organizations, being at present vice- 
president of the San Antonio Pen Women. She has not 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 175 

Collected her verses, though many have attained wide 
vogue. One of the best is the touching little poem, 
" Children of the Mill." 

Daffan, Miss Katie. — This poet is one of the best- 
known writers of the Lone Star State. She is also well 
known for the many positions of honor and trust that 
she has been called upon to occupy. She is at this time 
superintendent of the Confederate Woman's Home in 
Austin. For many years she has been connected with 
press associations and historical associations. There is 
constructive power in her work, whether as lecturer, or- 
ganizer, or writer. As Thinketh a Woman is a volume 
of poems that deals with the nobler emotions and ex- 
hibits delicate touches of humor and fancy. There is 
much of practical philosophy in her prose. Amongst her 
prose works may be mentioned Woman in History, The 
Woman on the Pine Springs Road, Texas Hero Stories. 
From this last has been selected the story of "James 
Stephen Hogg, the Tribune of the People." 

Darden, Mrs. Fannie Baker. — Mrs. Darden, the 
daughter of General Moseley Baker, was born in Ala- 
bama in 1829, and came to Texas with the family in 
1836. She lived in Galveston and then in Houston. 
After completing her education in Alabama she married 
William J. Darden of Virginia, and then made her home 
in Columbus, Texas. She did not collect her verses into 
book form, but gained wide fame through the exquisite 
legend, "Yokonah," and other poems. 

Davis, Mrs. Mollie Moore. — Mrs. Davis, known in her 
earlier years as Mollie Evelyn Moore, the "Texas Mock- 
ing Bird," the "Poet of the Texas Rangers," was born 
in Alabama, and spent her childhood at the LaRose 



176 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

Blanche plantation in southern Texas. Her first volume 
of poems, Minding the Gap, and Other Poems, was pub- 
lished in 1870, when she was eighteen years of age. It 
has passed through several editions. She was also the 
author of many prose works. Of these, In War Times 
at LaRose Blanche should be read for its autobiographical 
value, as it treats of a Texas portion of her life. In 
the Queen's Garden deals with the Louisiana period. 
The Little Chevalier has been considered her master- 
piece. In reading her books, whether romantic or his- 
toric, one comes into conscious contact with a rare spirit 
of singular sweetness, sympathy, purity, grace and 
charm, not unallied with energy and courage, with pas- 
sion and power. 

DeShields, James T. — The Story of Warren Lions is 
an extract from a recent historical work, Border Wars 
of Texas, edited by Mr. DeShields of San Marcos and 
published by Mr. Matt Bradley of Tioga, Texas. It oc- 
cupies a unique field and is an important contribution 
to our historical literature. Covering the period from 
the settlement of Texas to its annexation to the States, 
the book proceeds by actual happenings rather than by 
continuous historical narration. There is present the 
fascination and vigor of real life, just the kind to arouse 
the interest of the reader. 

DeWees, W. B. — Mr. DeWees possesses a striking 
power of realization, combined with an ardent apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful in nature. In his Letters from 
Texas, he seizes upon many of the landscape pictures of 
the broad Texas expanse, and realizes them to the mind 
in a delightful manner. He could hardly have found a 
more beautiful one than "A Prairie Sunset." 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 177 

Greer, Hilton Ross. — Mr. Greer is a genuine Texas 
poet, "to the manner born.' He was born in Wood 
County in 1878, and was reared in Pittsburg. His edu- 
cation was received principally from his mother, a 
teacher with marked literary power. He has been con- 
nected with various newspapers in Texas, and is at pres- 
ent editor of the Evening Journal of Dallas. lie is most 
successful with verse. He possesses the true poetic 
sense and has made careful study of verse structure. His 
writings have been collected in three dainty volumes: 
Sun-Gleams and Gossamers (1904) ; The Spiders and 
Other Poems (1906) ; A Prairie Prayer and Other Poems 
(1912). 

Grinstead, Jesse Edward. — Mr. Grinstead was born 
in Kentucky, moved from that State to Missouri, then 
through the Indian Territory to Texas. His home is in 
Kerrville at the head-waters of the Guadaloupe in what 
he calls the "Hill Country." He has filled various pub- 
lic offices — has been mayor of his town, a representative 
in the state legislature, and a member of different boards. 
But it is in his literary pursuits that he finds his greatest 
delight. For several years past he has been editor of 
the Kerrville Mountain Sun. 

As a romancer he finds much to entertain in the life 
about him and deals with it in a happy, buoyant man- 
ner. As a poet he reflects the kindly virtues of the sim- 
ple life. "The Whistle of the Bob White" is of a char- 
acteristic type. 



> ? 



Harby, Mrs. Lee Cohen. — Mrs. Harby is the com 
poser of the patriotic song, "The Flag Song of Texas, 
which won the $100 prize offered by President William 
Prather of the University of Texas, She was born in 



178 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

South Carolina in 1850 and came to Texas in 1869. At 
present she has returned to South Carolina. Her writ- 
ings consist of novels, short stories, and verse. 

Harrison, Jake IT. — Mr. Harrison is one of the most 
prolific writers of the State. Born in Virginia in 1851, 
he moved to Tennessee in 1857, the next year to Mis- 
souri, then to Texas. His home is in Dallas, Texas. He 
has been a man of affairs, holding many important posi- 
tions. He is a frequent contributor to the periodicals 
of the country and his contributions are enjoyed by a 
wide circle of readers. He is an ardent lover of nature 
and his philosophy of life is sane and healthful. 

Horn, Paul AVhitefield. — Mr. Horn has been con- 
nected with the public schools of Texas for many years. 
He was born in Missouri in 1870, and took his college 
course in Central College of that State. For the past 
eleven years he has been superintendent of the Houston 
city schools. 

He is active both as a lecturer and as a writer; but 
has given his latest and best thought to the making of 
text-books. His exquisite lyric, "Monday," is one of 
his best. "Manual Training" is an extract from his 
Best Things in Our Schools, published by C. A. Bryant 
of Dallas. 

Houston, Sam. — President Houston deserves recogni- 
tion in a work of literature because of his state papers, 
proclamations, and speeches. He is a character of un- 
ending interest to the Texas boy, and is a hero whose 
memory should be perpetuated through the school. His 
intimate knowledge of Indian life, derived from a long 
stay in their midst, makes the selection, "Eulogy on 
Flaco, ' ' a very appropriate one. 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES I7d 

Jackson, Mrs. Mary V. — The author of the historical 
essay, ' ' What the Battle of San Jacinto Meant, ' ' is Mrs. 
Mary Jackson of Paris, Texas. She was born in Tampa, 
Florida, and was educated in her native State. She has 
taught for many years in the high schools of Texas, and 
has spent much time in the consideration of school mat- 
ters, preparation of courses of study for literary clubs, 
and in newspaper work. 

Jouvenat, Mrs. M. M. — Mrs. Jouvenat (Juvenah) 
was born in North Carolina and came with her father 
and family to Texas when she was quite young. She 
has done much newspaper work, and has issued a volume 
of verse under the title, Wing-Shadows of Fancy, from 
which the selection, "Our Nameless Nation,' is taken. 
The poem was prepared for the dedication exercises of 
the Confederate monument on the Sherman plaza. Her 
home is in Sherman, Texas. 

Lamar, Mirabeau. — Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar, one 
of the greatest of the early writers of Texas, exhibited 
unusual power in both prose and poetry. He was born 
in Georgia in 1798, being contemporary with Cooper 
and Irving. His restless, romantic disposition turned 
him to Texas in 1835, jnst in time to take his part in the 
stirring events of republic building. He died in Decem- 
ber, 1859, and lies buried in Richmond, Texas, near the 
Brazos River. His volume of poems, Verse Memorials, 
was well received. The selections, "Gay Spring,' and 
"Daughter of Mendoza,' are from his collection. He 
also wrote much in the form of state papers, historical 
and biographical essays, and discussions of leading is- 
sues. He was a public-spirited man, and w T as a leader 
of thought and action in his time. 



180 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

Lemmon, Leonard. — Professor Lemmon was a native 
of Missouri. After receiving his educational equipment 
he came to Texas and took up his life-work of teaching. 
During these years his literary bent asserted itself and 
he wrote for the newspapers, delivered lectures and pre- 
pared text-books. His best known books are his series of 
Our Country's Readers, The History of Our Country — 
the latter of which was prepared in conjunction with 
Oscar Cooper and Harry Estill — and a work, American 
Literature, written in conjunction with Julian Haw- 
thorne. "A Lion Hunt in the Rocky Mountains" ap- 
peared in the Farm and Ranch, by whose courtesy it is 
used. 

Lewis, Judd Mortimer. — Few living writers of verse 
are as well known to Texas readers as Mr. Lewis, the 
poet of the Houston Post. He was born in Fulton, New 
York, and came to Houston in 1893. He has made two 
collections of verse under the titles, Lilts o' Love and 
Sing the South! He delights in child life, and juvenile 
verses comprise a large part of his writing. He has 
the rare ability of looking at a situation from the child's 
standpoint and making that the basis of his description. 
"A Boy's Whistle" and "Sing the South" are selections 
from his volumes of verse. 

Marriner, Harry Lee. — Mr. Marriner, for many years 
the "staff -poet of the Dallas News," was born in Ken- 
tucky in 1872. After extensive experience with various 
leading newspapers, he came to Texas in 1902, and en- 
tered the service of the Galveston News, retaining his 
connection with this paper as the Dallas-Galveston News, 
until the day of his death in 1914. 

For five years he failed not to prepare a daily 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 181 



i ( 



weather- verse ' for the front page of the paper, thus 
becoming very widely and intimately known for his 
genial homely philosophy of life. As he lay propped up 
on his dying bed in Kerrville, Texas, he penned these 
his last lines: 

If all of us were little cats and learned that nine-lived 

trick, 
You bet your booted, padded paws, our lives would make 

us sick, 
For when one's looked on life for years with eyes and 

ears and nose — 
Does he care much for giving up the hard, dry shell, 

d 'spose ? 

Nay, give us just one life to live — we want it more than 

nine, 
For one, I want no kittenhood in eight more years of 

mine, 
Just sale away the aged cats from which much life has 

flown, 
And leave me just the human sort — the proper one to 

own! 

The best comment that may be made on his life and 
work is found in the columns of the Dallas News from 
the pen of Mrs. Addie Hill Waller : 

He caught from the skies the rainbow dyes 
And the gold from the sunset's glow, 

And the edelweiss from the fields of ice, 
And set them to musical flow. 

He caught from the showers the fragrance of flowers, 
From the woodland the wild perfume, 

From the rippling rills their numberless trills, 
And blended them into a tune. 



182 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

With dextrous tact lie turned time back 

And his childish fancies regained, 
"With innocent joys and arts of boys — 

And gave us our youth again. 

The philosopher's stone was truly his own, 

For he changed life's gray to gold, 
When he wrung out the good from each sombre mood 

And pressed it into radiant mold. 

Maverick, Mrs. Sam. — Mrs. Maverick came to Texas 
in 1838. In ' ' The Council House Fight, ' ' she has given 
another excellent specimen of the historical element in 
Texas literature. She was an eye-witness to the fight; 
and the whole story as narrated by her may be found in 
Corner's San Antonio de Bexar. 

11 Mineral Wells." — This beautiful poem was handed 
the Commercial Club of Mineral Wells several years ago 
by a gentleman who styled himself "G. Herb Palin.' 
Nothing more is known of him save that he registered 
from South Carolina. 

Montgomery, Whitney. — Mr. Montgomery 's taste 
and genius for poetry were formed by an absorption of 
equal parts of Shakespeare and Byron. For sweetness 
and refined delicacy, his poetry is rarely equaled. He 
was born in Navarro County in 1877, is unmarried, and 
is devoted to his native soil. It is only a finished product 
that leaves his pen ; hence, he is not a prolific writer, but 
his verses are found in the leading periodicals. His home 
is in Eureka, Texas. He has not collected his poems, 
but the selection, "The Last Bob White," is a typical 
poem. 

Odom, Mrs. Mary.— Mrs. Mary Hunt McCaleb Odom 
is a "born poet," and it is said that she has filled more 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 183 

newspaper space with her writings than any other woman 
in Texas. She was born near Louisville, Kentucky, and 
reared on a plantation near Vicksburg, Mississippi. 
She and her husband, Colonel David McCaleb, came to 
Dallas in 18.73, and later moved to Galveston, where 
they both were connected with the Galveston Neivs. Her 
beautiful poem, "Little Aprons,' made an immediate 
sensation, being copied throughout the country. Her 
present home is in Austin, Texas. 

Ousley, Clarence. — Mr. Ousley was born in Georgia, 
in 1863, and obtained his education in Alabama. Later 
he moved to Texas where he married and entered upon 
newspaper work. In 1904 he organized the Fort Worth 
Record and continued his connection with this paper for 
several years. He is at present at the head of the ex- 
tension department of the Agricultural and Mechanical 
College of Texas. He has shown strong power as poet, 
lecturer, and journalist. The selections, "A Song of 
Simpler Things" and "The Rain, the Rainbow, and the 
Sunset, ' ' are excellent specimens of his style of expres- 
sion. Mr. Ousley is one of the authors of The Students' 
History of Our Country. 

Pilgrim, T. J. — Mr. Pilgrim accompanied a band of 
colonists from western New York in the fall of 1828, 
reaching Texas after many weeks of difficult traveling 
overland and on boats. His account of his endeavors 
to work up an interest in schools is very interesting. His 
home was in San Felipe de Austin, where he enjoyed the 
strong friendship of the empresario, Stephen F. Austin. 

Powell, Ernest. — No sweeter poet graces the litera- 
ture of the Lone Star State than Ernest Powell. Born 
in Harrison County in 1876, and living in Marshall since 



184 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

he was five years old, he is saturated through and 
through with the "Texas Spirit." He has taken spe- 
cial courses in Chicago and Boston in literature and 
music, and these subjects are his life's devotion. Some 
of his writings have recently been collected under the 
unpretentious title of Poems. With this attractive lit- 
tle booklet in hand one needs little else of the biograph- 
ical, for it is unconsciously replete with the heart and 
soul of the writer. The selection, "Sabine Boat Song,' 
is one of the most touching. 

Scott, Miss Helen. — In her exquisite verse conceits, 
a high school young lady, Miss Helen Scott of Austin, 
shows rare poetic imagination. Coming from a literary 
family, she has been carefully trained in her intellectual 
powers. She combines with this striking imaginative 
faculty a practical knowledge of poetic structure, rhythm, 
and vigor. "The Crickets' Band Concert" will give her 
permanent fame. 

Shortridge, Mrs. Belle Hunt. — Under the pen name 
of "Belle Hunt," Mrs. Shortridge has given the public 
many beautiful poems as well as some romances. Many 
of these verses have been collected under the title of 
Lone Star Lights, from which is taken the selection, 
"Peach-Blossom Time." She is also the author of two 
novels, Held in Trust and Circumstance. She died in 
Terrell in 1893. 

Simpson, Friench. — Mr. Friench Simpson, the author 
of the dainty nature lyric, ' ' Spanish Moss, ' was born 
in Virginia in 1848. He came to Texas during the Civil 
War. He was admitted to the bar in 1877, and was a 
member of the Texas senate from 1893 to 1897. His 
volume of poems, A Study of Nature, and Other Poems, 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 185 

was published in 1900. He is an ardent lover of nature, 
responsive to every changing phase. His home is Hal- 
lettsville, Texas, where he is engaged in the banking 
business. 

Sjolander, John P. — In her literati Texas has culled 
from many nationalities. The author of the two song 
lyrics, ' ' The Rain Frog ' ' and ' ' Swinging Song, ' ' is John 
P. Sjolander of Cedar Bayou, Texas. He was born in 
Sweden in 1851, and came to Galveston when he was 
twenty years old. He has an exquisite ear for melody 
and a nice, discriminating sense of proportion in his 
verse. Wedded to nature, he has the poet's faith in na- 
ture, and is simple and child-like in his utterances. He 
has made no collection of his verses, but it is hoped by 
his many admirers that he may soon do so. His latest 
poetic efforts he styles Rhymes of Galveston Bay. 

Swisher, Mrs. Bella French. — The poem, ' ' The San 
Antonio River," by Mrs. Swisher, is, in subject matter as 
well as in metrical structure, characteristic of much of 
Texas poetry. The author, a native of Georgia, came to 
Texas in 1877 when she was forty years of age. She 
married Colonel John M. Swisher, a man of abundant 
material wealth and sympathetic with his wife in her 
literary tastes. Her writings include much editorial 
work and several novels. But it is in imaginative poetry 
that she is at her best. 

Young, Mrs. Maude Fuller. — Mrs. Young's bio- 
graphical essay, ' ' Austin, the Father of Texas, ' ' gives an 
excellent presentation of Austin and his w r ork of colo- 
nization. She was born in North Carolina in 1826, and 
died in Houston, Texas, in 1882. Her pen deals with 
varied subjects. Her style is strong and concise. She 



186 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 

exhibits a striking imaginative power and is bold and 
fearless in her declarations. 

Young, Stark. — Professor Stark Young, formerly of 
the University of Texas, at present connected with 
Dartmouth College, was born in Mississippi in 1881. He 
has studied extensively in Italy. His writings are ex- 
tensive and varied, but he is at his best with the lyric 
sonnet. His volume of verse, The Blind Man at the 
Window, issued in 1906, contains many of his best poems. 
From this are taken the selections, " Bells of Boscastle' 
and "A Mother's Song." 



LIST OF AUTHORS 

Anonymous 15 



Baker, Mrs. Karle Wilson 113 

Bishop, Mrs. Julia Truitt 102 

Burgess, George F 11 

Chittenden, Larry 03 

Collins, Mrs. J. Kendrick 130 

Daffan, Miss Katie 121, 144 

Darden, Mrs. Fannie Baker 51 

Davis, Mrs.- Mollie Mocre 58 

DeShields, James T 78 

Dewees, W. B 88 

Greer, Hilton Ross 159 

Grinstead, Jesse Edward 95 

Harby, Mrs. Lee Cohen 7 

Harrison, Jake H 29, 33 

History of Texas, A Brief 

Horn, P. W 132, 133 

Houston, Sam 50 

Jackson, Mrs. Mary V 30 

Jouvenat, Mrs. M. M. 92 

Lamar, Mirabeau 83, 80 

Lemmon, Leonard 42 

Lewis, Judd Mortimer 137, 142 

Marriner, Harry Lee 107, 170 

Maverick, Mrs. Sam 105 

Montgomery, Whitney 40 

Odom, Mrs. Mary 151 

187 



173 
173 
173 
174 
174 
175 
175 
175 
170 
170 
177 
177 
177 
178 
25 
178 
178 
179 
179 
179 
180 
180 
180 
182 
182 
182 



188 LIST OF AUTHORS 

Ousley, Clarence 153, 155 

Pilgrim, T. J 115 

Powell, Ernest 90 

Scott, Miss Helen 148 

Shortridge, Mrs. Belle Hunt 22 

Simpson, Friench Ill 

Sjolander, John P 117, 119 

Swisher, Mrs. Belle French 74 

Young, Mrs. Maude Fuller 66 

Young, Stark 101, 104 



183 
183 
183 
184 
184 
184 
185 
185 
185 
186 



